Hopes Up High, Head Down Low
by Echoing Fantasy
Summary: Tsunayoshi Sawada got a taste of what the mafia was like when he was only six years old, and he watched his father run his hand through a man's chest. Since then, he has sought to protect his fragile world by keeping as far away from the mafia as possible. Too bad the Vongola didn't get that memo.
1. Chapter 1

**MAFIA TERMONOLOGY**

_*Whack – _To murder someone; see also 'clip' and 'ice'.

_*Cleaning – _To take the necessary steps (checking around, stopping at various locations) to avoid being followed.

* * *

_Mark Zero: Warnings of Failure and False Truths (Unacceptable)_

**(December 21, 7:30 PM/ Namimori, Japan/ Residential Area)**

_Winter in Japan was a lot like winter in Russia; Iemitsu thought as he walked down the cold streets, except winters in Russia would freeze a man's balls off if he wasn't careful. _

_Beside him, his son Tsuna chattered away excitedly, wrapped up in a big fluffy coat with earmuffs and mittens and a scarf to keep him warm. Iemitsu had chuckled when he'd first seen it – Nana was fairly protective of Tsuna, almost as much as Iemitsu was. Even when they weren't crossing streets, Iemitsu kept Tsuna's hand in his own, or carried him. He smiled and laughed with his son, but the second Tsuna was distracted he was turning his gaze around them, filtering out the dangerous people from the norms and making sure to keep at least three different escape routes in view at all time. _

_Just because he was home didn't necessarily mean he was off-duty. If anything, him being home was cause for him to be on high alert, especially given the number of people that had him on their hit list. He knew Nana could hold her own and he himself hardly needed an army to take out a few mangy snipers, but he still had the partial mentality of a father, and so had his son's life to consider. _

"_I'm getting tired. Can we go home?" Tsuna asked, tugging lightly at his hand to get him to look down and pay attention. Iemitsu did so, mind pushing itself away from the other mentality which was threatening to surface. _You're home now; you're not on the clock. Calm down.

"_Of course! You want me to carry you, Tsuna?" _

_His little boy (who was utterly adorable and could do no wrong in Iemitsu's eyes) shook his head. "I can walk by myself!"_

_Iemitsu chuckled; his boy was so cute! "Alright then, Tsuna, let's head home, yeah?"_

_Tsuna started running for home, Iemitsu not too far behind him. This was nice. Seeing his family, watching his son grow up and enjoy life to its fullest – it made the job of being a mafia man all worth it. Even if at times it didn't seem like _anything _was worth being put through this hell. _

"_Daddy! C'mon, hurry up!" Tsuna yelled, having already hurried far ahead. The six year old was jumping up and down with an eager excitement Iemitsu hadn't seen in a long time. _Nana must be making his favorite for dinner again. _A faint smile curved his mouth. _

"_Alright, alright, calm down. I'll get there when I get there! I'm not as young as I used to be, you know," Iemitsu teased. It wasn't exactly a lie – he _wasn't _as young as he used to be. And at times, the blond found himself regretting that. Especially when he saw the vibrancy and energy that came with that age. Ah, youth. _

_His son huffed in reply, eagerly tugging on his hand as he got within reaching distance and pulling his father along as Iemitsu laughed. "Just what is your mother making tonight that's so important that you won't even wait up for your old, aging father?"_

"_She's making your favorite! But she said she had a 'sprise for you too!"_

"_A surprise, eh?" The blond tried his hardest to keep the knowing grin off his face at that. It _had _been a while since he and his beloved had been intimate with one another, and Nana had made repeated allusions to a certain lacy item being present within her wardrobe now…_

Stop that. You're in front of your son, idiot.

_Oh right. Whoops._

_Coughing into a fist to give himself an excuse for the strange look on his face, Iemitsu turned his attention back to his son. "Listen, when we get home, why don't you and I—"_

"_Daddy, who's that man?"_

_Iemitsu's world flipped on its axis in a heartbeat, his posture going from relaxed to tense in the same amount of time. "Where?"_

"_There!" Tsuna pointed him out; a man dressed in familiar slacks and a fur coat was leaning against a light pole smoking. A quick look around revealed no one to be in the near vicinity. _

_Iemitsu recognized the man as Carlos Soolu of the north-eastern Soolu Family. They were a mildly powerful group that had recently come up on the maps due to a very slow rise to power. They were an old dynasty, once managed by the very same men who had managed the Chinese empires so revered in ages past. However with the new method of doing things and the change to technology, they had been forced out of the ruling position and into the shadows. _

_They had been one of the more 'soon to be problematic' Families that Nono had wanted to keep an eye on, confident that once they had enough power, the Soolu would make an effort to cut the Vongola off at the knees and cripple them before stealing the seat of power for themselves. That being said, the CEDEF had already placed several scouts in their ranks, and were currently keeping an ear and an eye out for anything pertaining to the Vongola or the Families allied therein._

_The fact that one of Soolu's mooks was here, coupled with the knowledge about the Family's intense hatred of the Vongola and slowly-rising rank in the mafia world, told Iemitsu that this wasn't coincidence. Somehow, one of Soolu's men had gotten hold of where the leader of CEDEF and his family lived, and had been ordered to whack* them._

_Realizing that, Iemitsu wasn't about to take a chance and expose his son to them. If Tsuna hadn't been with him, he would have taken the time to do a bit of cleaning* before approaching the man. Sadly, he was at a disadvantage; the best he could do was make sure that his disadvantage was not spotted or attacked. Turning to Tsuna, he knelt down in front of him, making sure to block the view and keep to the shadows. It was still relatively dark outside, and the snow was still coming down. As long as they stayed far enough away, hopefully the assassin wouldn't notice them._

"_Tsuna, listen to me. That man and I have some business to do… its very private business, you understand? Just like the kind of business Daddy has to do overseas." Not exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth, either. Oh well, he didn't have to give details. "But there's a catch; if the man sees you, he might get mean. He doesn't like kids, and I __**need **__to talk to him. So can you do me a favor?" He put on his best Daddy-loves-you look, complete with encouraging smile. _

_Tsuna nodded, eager to make his father happy. Iemitsu smiled, this time a bit more genuine, before ruffling his hair and gently pushing him towards a nearby alleyway. "Stay in there until Daddy calls you okay? Don't say anything, and don't come out, okay?"_

_His son nodded and hurriedly ducked into the alley, shifting between a couple of trashcans and sitting against the wall, knees draw up to his chest. Curled up like he was, it would be impossible to spot him unless someone was actually __**looking **__for him. _Good boy, Tsuna.

"_**Now, to deal with the Soolu," **__Iemitsu muttered to himself, switching to Italian so Tsuna wouldn't overhear. He prayed that his son would listen, and that if Soolu did indeed choose to send backup, they wouldn't come down that alleyway._

_Carlos had yet to notice his approach, and continued to smoke, completely ignorant to the danger behind him. _You would think a mafia man would be more alert, _Iemitsu sneered to himself. The only good fool was a dead one; Carlos might have been a good moneymaker for the Soolu, but that's _all _he was. His techniques in battle were weak, and he didn't have the knowledge of a skilled fighter like most in the Vongola did. He wouldn't be much of a hassle, but Iemitsu was still cautious. Underestimation had nearly killed him when he'd first gotten started; he wasn't about to make such a beginner's mistake so late in his career. Nono would kill him if he did._

_Carlos suddenly turned, the stub of the cigarette dropping from his mouth, his eyes on the ground where he would step on it on a minute. Recognizing his chance, Iemitsu shot forward, punching his opponent straight in the gut, knocking him off his feet. Carlos slammed into a nearby fence and stopped, dropping down to the ground below where he stayed, dazed and in pain for a moment before training took over, and he recognized his opponent. _

"_**BASTARD! It's you!" **__Carlos screamed, his voice hitting some rather high octaves. Iemitsu allowed his confidence to surge forward, and smiled._

"_**Yes, it's me. After all the trouble you went to look for me, did you think I wouldn't show up? That would be rude of me." **__Falsifying emotions was easy enough, and best of all it seemed to do the trick of riling the other man up. But that didn't deter Carlos for long. _

"_**Yes, I heard all about you, Iemitsu. You apparently got a pretty little piece hangin' onto you back home, eh? And a squirt to boot, the way I heard it back there." **__Seeing Iemitsu's cheek twitch ever-so-slightly, he grinned. __**"The boss gave us orders; we kill you, and bring the pretty bauble and her little bit in for inspection. Who knows, if the boss **_likes _**her, maybe he'll let her and the brat live. Hell, he might even give her a decent job! Of course, she'll have to spend a lot of time on her **_knees…_**"**_

_A decent mafia man from a different Family might not have reacted to that, but one of the rules held by the Vongola was the respect of women, especially those that were married. To hear such slander about his Nana coming from the vile mouth of an enemy who wasn't even at the same level as him…_

_Iemitsu smiled. It was not a nice smile; it was not his Nana-and-Tsuna Smile. Instead, this was the smile he gave when Nono let him off the leash, and told him to bring back someone- an enemy, _alive. _**"Well Carlos, that's such a nice offer, I think I ought to give something back. Tell you, what I'm going to make your return trip so much easier."**_

"_**Oh yeah?" **__The mook mocked, clearly not realizing what he'd just done. __**"And how are you going to do that?"**_

"_**Simple. You'll be shipped back to your boss' estate… in **_pieces.**" **

_The idiot never saw it coming. Iemitsu seized him by the throat and slammed him to the ground, dislocating one of his arms in the struggle and causing him to scream. Iemitsu choked him to quiet the noise, and saw out of the corner of his eye a knife being drawn by the good hand while at the same time one of his legs was raising to kick Iemitsu away._

_To keep both from happening, he blond raised a fist and brought it down onto the man's knee, effectively breaking it in such a way that the skin above it split open, blood beginning to show. _

_While the grunt was gasping soundlessly, trying his hardest to stop the flow of blood from his leg (and dropping his knife in the process), Iemitsu calmly tightened his fingers straight into a single point and plunged them into the man's heart. The body beneath him lurched, Carlos jerking like a fish before going slack, a bit of blood trickling from his lips. _

The bone here in front is always so annoying to break through. I wish there was an easier method than doing this, but I left my ice pick at home. I'll talk to Giannichi about getting a collapsible pick when I get back to Italy. Maybe he can do something with the one I have, and save me some money, _Iemitsu calmly thought as he pulled his hand from the now-dead man's heart, flicking his fingers a few times to get rid of the excess blood. Reaching into his jacket pocket with his clean hand, he pulled out his phone and began to dial a certain number._

_After only two rings, it was answered. __**"Yes?"**_

"_**This is Iemitsu. I'm in Namimori Japan; one of Soolu's men just attacked me. I need a cleanup job."**_

"_**What is your address?"**_

_Blue eyes sought out the nearest signpost. __**"Twenty-one fifty-two Nakahara Street."**_

"_**We will send someone immediately. Thank you for your call." **__The line abruptly went dead. _

_Closing and pocketing the phone, Iemitsu sighed. Hopefully those guys would also have a change of clothes he could borrow. He didn't want to have to explain his attire – or the blood – to Nana and Tsunayoshi. Nana would undoubtedly understand, but Tsuna was far, far too young to even grasp the concept of the mafia, let alone his father's involvement in it._

_A small sound behind him made his head snap up so fast he swore he could hear his neck crack. No, no no no no no!_

_Tsuna, wide-eyed and pale, pressed his little body against a nearby fence as he stared at Iemitsu in fear. His legs shook as he attempted to remain upright and not give in to the sudden urge to run away screaming. "D-daddy…?"_

_Iemitsu's conviction and burning drive shattered with that one word, the feeling of _duty _gone from his mind so fast it made him dizzy. He gulped, suddenly brutally aware of the world around him. Tsuna had seen. Tsuna, his six-year-old and rather impressionable son, had _seen. _Oh heavens, the Ninth would have his _ass _for this. No, better than that, he'd have his head on a pike, his body thrown to the dogs and his ass stuffed and mounted behind his desk as a show of what happened to people too stupid to cover up their own tracks. _

"_Tsuna? W-where…I-I told you to stay in the alleyway!"_

"_I-I-I… I heard a scream… I-I t-t-though D-D-Daddy might b-be hurt…" The lower lip began to tremble, and tears could be seen in the corner of the boy's eyes. Tsuna was truly terrified. And it was because of that damn Carlos Soolu!_

_He had to cover this up; he had to stop Tsuna from screaming and bringing any cops in the near vicinity running. He had to handle this, reassure his son that he'd only done this for his own protection –_

That's it. Protection.

_The thought snapped into place with all the grace of the final piece of the jigsaw, and suddenly Iemitsu had a plan, a story and the means to carry it out. The only danger factor was if Tsuna suddenly gave in to the fear and tried to call for help, or run away. _

_Iemitsu loved his son, he loved his wife, but he also loved the Family, and if it honestly came down to a choice between the Family or the life of his son… well, he and Nana could always have another. Nana would understand, if he told her there had been a terrible accident, and Iemitsu hadn't been able to save him._

_But he would try to talk to Tsuna first, try to keep him calm and reasonable. And if that failed, if his little boy refused to listen…_

_Carefully, making sure to move very slowly, like one would when approaching a frightened animal, Iemitsu turned around and knelt, offering a hand out. "Tsuna? It's okay, Tsuna. Come here."_

_His little boy gulped and tried to press back even further, but his plans were thwarted when he seemed to realize that becoming part of fences was not an ability of the human body. He whimpered softly._

_Iemitsu heard the noise and something in him tightened. _Please don't do this, Tsuna. Don't make me have to hurt you. _"Tsuna," he murmured, low and soothing like he'd seen Nana do so many times, "it's okay now. The bad man is gone. I won't hurt you; I love you too much to hurt you. I'm your father – you know you can trust me, don't you?"_

_The words – coaxingly persuasive and gently said – did the job. Tsuna swallowed and oh-so-slowly began to step towards his father, his eyes flickering between the man holding out a bloodied hand of friendship and the body on the floor. "B-bad man?"_

"_Yes, Tsuna." He kept using the gentle tone. "He was going to hurt you and Nana. I got angry when he said that – I'm sorry I scared you." _

_Tsuna bypassed the hand and instead eased himself into his father's embrace, still shivering beneath it all. Iemitsu wrapped an arm around his waist, the other bloodied hand coming up to touch the nape of his son's neck, fingers lightly massaging it. The tendons were tense, but they slowly begin to relax – a good sign, Iemitsu thought. Tsuna rested his head against his father's shoulder, unknowingly giving Iemitsu a better grip on his neck. So fragile, so small. One wrong move would mean the end – but Tsuna trusted him too much right now, and believed the lie he was weaving. So he would keep his touch light, gentle. _Remember your role.

"_Are you going to get in trouble?" There was something like concern in those big eyes of his. Iemitsu found himself smiling. The mafia was a dark, dangerous place; Iemitsu had long become desensitized to all that went on there, but it still touched him whenever little rays of light like his son emerged. They were so beautiful to look at, right up until the day they became tainted. They were still beautiful even after that, but it was a different sort of beauty. One that only those in the darker recesses seemed to truly appreciate. _

"_Well, that depends on you, Tsuna." Pulling back from his son's embrace, Iemitsu made the boy look at him. "What happened here can get me in trouble with a lot of people, son, but I did it to protect you and your mother. But the government and the local police won't see it as that. They'll see it as _me _attacking _him, _and they'll lock me away for a very long time."_

_Tsuna's eyes widened, the tears beginning to spring up in the corners of his eyes again. _Bingo. _"B-but I don't want you to go away! I want you to stay here with me and Mommy!"_

"_Then you need to keep this a secret, Tsuna. Just between me and you, okay? You can't tell anyone what I did here today, not your mom, not your classmates or your teacher, not even your closest friends. Because if you do, I'll be arrested and locked away and you won't get to see me again for a long time. Do you understand?" He hated manipulating his son like this on some scale, but it was a small scale compared to the greater force of his loyalty to his Family. Not to mention what Nono might have done to his son if he squealed. _

_The thought made his hands tighten on the boy's shoulders. _

_Tsuna, feeling the pressure and thinking his father wanted an answer, nodded quickly. "Y-yes, I won't say anything, I promise!"_

_Iemitsu smiled then, feeling the quivers coming off of Tsuna's body and realizing that he'd been out here for far too long. "Alright then. Let's go home and get you warmed up, huh?"_

"_W-won't Mommy notice that?" Tsuna pointed to the blood on Iemitsu's outfit and hands. Iemitsu, seeing the problem, reached out and wiped his hands on a section of his target's shirt that hadn't been covered with red. Pulling back, he stood and smiled down at his son._

"_Now she won't. C'mon son, let's—"_

"_Daddy," Tsuna whimpered, and hid behind his father's legs as he pointed. "__**Look.**__"_

_Iemitsu did so, his temper rising and sharpening as he realized that the goon he'd just taken out _did _have back-up, and they didn't look happy. More importantly, there were enough of them to be a plausible threat, especially now that he had Tsunayoshi with him as a liability. His enemies seem to realize it as well, if their grins and gazes were any indication. _

Looks like there's no helping it. I'll have to deal with the consequences later.

_With one leg Iemitsu shifted Tsuna behind him while he pulled on his black gloves, the taunt feeling of the fabric easing his mind into the mixed role between violence and love. "Tsunayoshi," he rumbled, feeling the sense of duty hit him like one of his own punches, "cover your eyes, get behind me, and _don't move_. Daddy has _work _to do."_

* * *

**8 Years Later… **

**(August 6****th****, 2:45 PM/ Namimori, Japan/ Sawada House)**

The bathtub water had long grown cold, but Tsuna still hadn't gotten out of it. If anything, the cold grip of the water held his thoughts together, made the shaky bits of reality come together into something plausible and true.

For the longest time, he hadn't wanted to believe that the old man in the living room all those years ago was a mafia boss. But eventually, he had come to accept it. Okay, so his father invited a mafia boss over for dinner. No big deal; the old man (Timoteo) had been nice and polite and hadn't tried to trade drugs or illegal firearms over the dinner table (at least not while Tsuna was watching), so it was okay. That was okay.

Today however… well, today might take a bit more time to believe. Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, Tsuna bit his lip and forced back the tears of sheer stress. The cold was the only thing holding him together; it was the only reason he hadn't had an anxiety attack of major proportions, and it was still the only reason he was alive. Especially considering right now, he wasn't entirely sure he _wanted _to be alive.

His father was in the mafia; it was a harsh truth Tsuna had been forced to confront a mere two years ago, when a shootout had occurred in his old school during a Parent-Teacher Conference, and three people – two teachers and one kid – had wound up dead. The shooter had been an enemy of his father's apparently – some Family or another come to kill him, or something like that. Tsuna had begged on bended knee, quite literally, for his father to take him out of that school, because the looks and whispers and words of blame were becoming too much. Somehow, someone in the school had realized who he was, and who his father was, and what he did, and put three and three together. Tsuna had become a pariah there, and none of the teachers, or even the principal, once they'd learned the truth, had done anything to stop it.

So Tsuna had transferred. And now two years later, here he was, the same situation playing out before his eyes again. Except this time, the details were different.

One of his classmates – who happened to also be one of his only friends at the school, Kyoko Sasagawa, had been shot. Not fatally, thank god, but seriously enough to where she required immediate surgery and had been in critical condition since she'd left. The shooter had (once again) been an enemy of his father's, but this time they had been going after Tsuna, not Iemitsu. Kyoko had gotten caught in the crossfire; Tsuna had walked away with a bullet in his arm (still there now) and Kyoko had walked away with a bullet in her _chest._

If it hadn't been for Hana's quick thinking and Chrome's ability to calm him down and keep him from having a panic attack to end all panic attacks (that paper bag had seriously helped) then he was pretty sure Kyoko would be dead, and he would be ten feet in the ground from where her big brother would have firmly planted him. As it was, Hana, Chrome and Kyoko's big brother were downstairs with his mother, his father was out of the house (he had raced off as soon as Tsuna had come home with the bullet in his arm), and Tsuna was in the bathtub trying to figure out how he was going to explain this entire thing to Ryohei without encountering a fist to the face. What was he supposed to say? _Uh yeah, my dad's kinda in the mafia, and well, that sorta means that my entire family is one big walking target, and well since your sister is my friend she kinda got caught up in it by mistake?_

Yeah, he could just see that going over _real _smoothly. It was already bad enough that he hadn't told Hana _or _Chrome _or _Kyoko about it, and his mother seemed completely oblivious to his father's strange ways. She had been smiling the entire time Iemitsu had told him the truth, and even when Tsuna had been on the verge of passing out, she had only asked _what they wanted for dinner_!

It was horrible, and quite frankly, Tsuna was tired of dealing with it. It was bad enough that most of the kids at Nami Middle had heard the rumors (who hadn't?) and stayed away from him. The good news was that he wasn't harassed as much as he could have been. The bad news was that those that hated him usually wanted him and his family dead. Hana, Chrome and Kyoko were the only ones that had heard the rumors, but didn't care. Hana in particular had waved them aside as if they were nothing.

"_Bah! If they've got enough time to gossip and worry about other people, then they've got more than enough time to worry about their own dramas and problems too. Honestly, it ticks me off how they act, blindingly following rumors without any investigation whatsoever!"_

Hana was his savior; Kyoko had been hesitant about meeting him, but after seeing Hana's approach, she had joined in a conversation about books they had been having one day up on the roof, and they had become fast friends. Chrome had transferred a little while after that, and like Hana she paid no mind to the rumors – probably because she had a few of her own flying around. Together they had gone through the last year and a half together, hanging out and enjoying life. It was thanks to them that Tsuna had been drawn from his solitude little by little, and participated in activities he might not have. For example, he was pretty good at soccer, even if the gym teacher was a demon and the other kids ignored him and he was always last on the team.

Tennis was another of his strengths. He didn't know what it was about holding the racket on his hand and darting back and forth on a court that was so invigorating, but every time he stepped up he felt a chill run down his spine and his excitement grew. Again, sure he was ignored and the teacher hated him, but he enjoyed himself instead of shying away from everything. All thanks to Hana and the others, he had been able to live a mostly normal life until now.

And now he had the honor of going downstairs and telling those same people that his father was in the mafia, and it was all his fault that Kyoko got shot. Knowing it wouldn't get any better no matter how long he sat there, Tsuna sighed, pulled the plug and lifted himself out of the tub. He quickly toweled off and headed to his room, closing the door behind him. With trembling fingers he opened his dresser drawers and began to slip into his undergarments, all the while going over what he was going to wear in his head. It had to be something nice because his friends were over – possibly for the last time – but something he didn't really care about since Ryohei was probably going to beat the ever-living snot out of him.

Digging through his drawers, he managed to come back with a worn old shirt he'd used for market runs that was still pretty decent, and a pair of jeans with a small hole in the right knee. For the finishing touches, he combed his hair as neatly as possible and transformed it from a wet cat to a drying fluffball. All the while he tried not to think about the nauseating feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach, or how his knees were almost knocking together with how badly they were shaking. Instead he kept his gaze on the floor and forced himself to open the door and start down the stairs.

Three steps from the kitchen, he was suddenly overcome with a wave of gut-clenching, stomach twisting, gotta-run-and-hide terror that made him stop and lean against the wall. For the next minute and a half, he seriously considered going back upstairs and throwing himself out the window, just to save time and energy. But no; his mind rejected the cowardice offered up and told him quite bluntly to get his ass downstairs, sit in a chair, and tell them why Kyoko was in the hospital. They deserved nothing less. After all, he had been the one to invite them over, and it was he that had asked them to wait while he took a quick back and got dressed. He no longer had the option of backing out.

So the brunette took a deep breath, sent a quick prayer to whoever was listening that he wasn't about to lose his entire world in one fell swoop, and walked into the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

_Mark One: Broken Down Beyond Measure (Confession)_

"Would you like something to drink, Sasagawa-kun?"

The woman who called herself Nana was offering him something to drink, Ryohei realized, blinking at the suddenly too-bright light. He had been unconsciously meditating again; something he did when his more violent emotions started to show up. The crack in the fine china plate Nana-san had offered him earlier was testament to that. Fortunately, Hana had managed to find some glue to put the plate back together before the woman had come back in the kitchen to check on them.

"No thank you, Sawada-san. I'm fine," he replied politely, eyes searching the kitchen for signs of the boy who had originally ushered them all here. Still, there was no sign of the woman's son, prompting Ryohei to frown. A quick look at the clock on the wall showed it had been nearly an hour since they had arrived. Would the boy ever show himself?

Beside him, the two girls he had come to know as Hana and Chrome were talking, Hana obviously as eager to hear what Sawada had to say as Ryohei was. This was the first time the boy had ever taken the time to invite people over to his house, at least as far as Hana was saying, so why wasn't he down here already? The thought that this could be a joke of some sort made Ryohei's blood boil.

_Calm down, have to calm down. A warrior must have patience, no matter what trial he is facing. _Sucking in a breath through his nose, the boxer closed his eyes and went back to meditating, pressing callused fingers together. His sister was in the hospital; now was not the time to be hasty. If Sawada needed time to gather himself so he could talk properly, then Ryohei would give him that time. _Kyoko deserves no less, after all. Besides, she'd scold me for running out before I listened to what he had to say. _

As if that thought was the magic phrase, Ryohei heard soft footsteps approaching; there was a brief pause and then a newly-cleaned, nervous looking brunette appeared, giving them all a shaky smile. "Um, hello. S-sorry for the wait. I, um," here he looked down at his bare toes, curling and uncurling them several times before finishing his sentence, "was trying to figure out the order of things. For the explanation, that is."

Ryohei felt something inside of him snap to attention as he himself sat up a bit straighter. Hana was the one to ask the obvious question though, "_What _explanation?"

Sawada's face had been rather pale when he'd entered the kitchen, and it proceeded to lose what little color remained on it at Hana's question. The brunette rubbed his right elbow, looking off to the side while biting his bottom lip. If that didn't scream _guilty, _then Ryohei didn't know what did. Still, the boxer wasn't quite ready to jump to conclusions just yet – mostly because the boy was Kyoko's friend, and Kyoko wouldn't like it if he did that.

So instead he stood and walked over to where he knew Sawada's mother had put the hot cup of tea she'd brewed up for Ryohei earlier – the one he'd politely declined. Placing that in front of the empty seat facing them, he gestured towards it. "Tea helps calm down if you're feeling extreme," he explained, taking in Sawada's shocked face and knowing he was doing something right, "or in your case, if you're nervous. Drink a bit, then we'll start, yeah?"

He half expected the boy to bolt from the room, given how tense his body had become just over Ryohei's little speech. But the brunette clearly intended to go through with whatever he had in mind, because he nodded and slid into the seat as Ryohei returned to his, picking up the cup and sipping at the liquid.

Ryohei watched, and wondered what was to come.

* * *

_Coward._

Tsuna sipped the tea Ryohei had given him, trying not to freak out and let his terror show. By the look the girls were giving him, it wasn't working. So instead he focused on not choking on the tea.

_You're making excuses._

His fingers gripped the handle hard while his toes curled. He hated his own inability to lie sometimes, he really did. Well that and his own brutal mental state. His mind had a very nasty habit of telling him things up front without any kind of censorship. Sometimes that was nice, but when he was trying really hard to keep his composure and not flip out, it was less than ideal. Then again, what _was _concerning his life?

"Sawada," Hana barked. Clearly she must have been the one in charge of his thoughts, because the look she was giving him told him she knew _exactly _what he was thinking. "We've waited an hour; you've drank your tea, now what did you call us here for?" Her tone changed and became slightly sarcastic. "Unless you rounded us up just for a get-together so you could console us on the loss of one of our friends?"

Tsuna would blame his slightly-harder-than-necessary slamming of the teacup on the table on his own nerves, rather than Hana's words. He saw Ryohei's eyes narrow slightly at the reaction and cursed himself to high heaven. This was his fault, he needed to take responsibility. So why was it so hard to speak? It was just four little words. _It was my fault. _He needed to say it, to tell them the truth. Because anything else wouldn't be fair to Ryohei, and it sure as hell would be fair to Kyoko, who hadn't done anything except care.

So he sucked in a shallow breath, gripped the table until his knuckles turned white, and spat out, "My fault."

The look the three gave him made it clear his words weren't connecting. So he tried again, gripping harder this time and almost shoving the words out. "Kyoko's shooting was my fault. I take full responsibility."

And just as predicted, Ryohei's expression warped into something deadly calm and almost eerily attentive. "What did you just say?" His voice was quiet.

His entire body was shaking, but heck, he'd already let the cat out of the bag. Now he needed to follow said cat over the cliff. "Kyoko's shooting. It was m-my fault. U-um. T-t-the guy that s-s-shot her. W-was. Um. L-looking for me." _Oh look, the table has swirls on it. Funny how I never notice that until now. Pretty swirls, very pretty… _

A silence befell the kitchen that was almost as terrible as it was thick. Some part of Tsuna had been expecting a cry of disbelief from Hana, but none had come. Worst was the fact that Ryohei wasn't making any sound – a sure sign his anger was growing larger. Tsuna risked a peek under his bangs, and found Ryohei considering him coolly, the normally hyper spirit within him simmering down until only a calm, level-headed teen remained. "Explain," the boxer ordered softly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

So Tsuna told them. He told them about his father's involvement with the Italian mafia, how his father had been attacked four times in the last year, with the most previous attack being the one they had heard rumors about. He told them how he had grown up under the weight of both worlds, and tried his best to put himself as far away from the mafias reach as possible. Mostly, he told them how he had never even considered anyone coming after him, because of said isolation from said mafia.

"—and it's my fault for not thinking about it, not considering the fact because I'm his son, and I'm practically a walking target for them. It's my fault Kyoko's in the hospital, and even though I'm t-t-terrified right now, I'm not g-going to shy away from that fact. I-If I had been more responsible, then this wouldn't have happened and I'm sure right now you don't want my apologies because they mean nothing to you, but I'm still going to apologize because it's my fault," Tsuna forced himself to stop there, only because he was out of breath, and the fact that he was the only one speaking was starting to make him anxious.

As silence once more descended on the group, Tsuna ducked his head and waited for the inevitable conclusion to this long confession. This was it, he realized, the moment when his life ended and he would be put in the ground by the older brother of the girl he had befriended. The instant where his friends abandoned him out of disgust and horror, and his life became hell. Any minute now…

Yet one minute turned to two, and then three, and nothing happened. Tsuna found himself wondering if maybe he was just counting too fast, and so started recounting. He managed to work all the way up to thirty before realizing that the tension he had felt in the room before was gone. Perhaps most confusing was the fact that there was no longer an undercurrent of anger within the room either. It was simply like a void, empty and dark.

Curious, Tsuna raised his head slightly, toes curling in anticipation for a punch to the face. Maybe Ryohei was waiting for him to look up, he thought, or maybe Hana would be the one to do the honors. She certainly had a temper on her, and he wouldn't put it past her to be the one to kick him while he was down. After all, how many times had she told him he was being too dramatic or too stupid for his own good?

Except there was no movement. Not from Ryohei, not from Hana and not from Chrome. All three of them just seemed… frozen. Tsuna was tempted to ask if they were okay, but something told him that would be a very bad idea. So he stayed silent, quietly drinking the tea until there was nothing left, and all he could do was clutch the cup until his fingers turned white. Something that had probably taken no more than five minutes was quickly turning into an eternity, and the brunette was unsure how to deal with it.

And then Ryohei stood up. Tsuna flinched and jerked backwards despite himself, watching the boxer with a wary eye. Ryohei wasn't looking at him, his gaze instead pointed at the fridge, the hard glint in his eyes making Tsuna feel more than a little nervous. The boxer said something too quiet for Tsuna to hear, and then calmly walked past them all and out the door, the _click _driving all thoughts from the brunette's head. A few seconds after that, Hana and Chrome also got up and left as well, neither saying anything.

Tsuna was left sitting by himself, clutching his empty cup and wondering if he had just damned himself in a whole new way.

* * *

His father had always said that there was a difference between blind anger and anger with a purpose. Ryohei supposed in this case, his father had been right. His mind was completely and utterly blank, and his body felt weightless and numb, like he didn't even have a body to begin with. He felt curiously calm, as though nothing was wrong. He hadn't looked Sawada in the eye – no, that wasn't right, it wasn't that had _hadn't,_ it was that he _couldn't. _Looking Sawada in the eyes then, seeing the helpless brunette quiver like a hare cornered by a rabid wolf would have sent him from purposeful anger into blind anger. The words Sawada had spoken were still ringing in his head with crystal-clear clarity, like a glass bell, beautiful and yet terrible.

He had been tempted, about halfway through the explanation, to put his hands over his ears and start screaming in the loudest voice he possible could. He had wanted to say that Sawada had been lying, that this was all just one really bad dream. But the longer he listened and the more he watched Sawada move, the more he realized that this story was as far from a lie as he was from getting a career with the astronauts. Sawada – no; _Tsunayoshi, _Ryohei reminded himself sharply, sucking in a breath that felt far too cold, had been brutally truthful. He had been terrified, but he hadn't stopped to try to cover his own tracks or lead the trio off-course. He hadn't chickened out in the end and yelled, "Gotcha!" like a majority of the boys at the school would have done when confronted by Ryohei's temper. He had been truthful all the way to the end, despite knowing Ryohei might very well plant his fist in between his ribs at any time. That, if nothing else, made Ryohei respect him as a man.

The closer Ryohei drew to his house, the more the darker rage inside of him began to twist and turn over Tsuna's words, tasting them like a fine wine before spitting them back out. It was _his _fault Kyoko was in the hospital – so it was only fair that he be put there too, by Ryohei no less. After all, wasn't it Ryohei's place to protect his sister's honor? He shouldn't have left the house like he had, in fact, he should turn around and go show _Tsunayoshi _just what it meant to be afraid for his life.

Yet even as the dark thoughts swirled and taunted and teased, the training beaten into him and honed through the years by his father settled like a wet blanket over the raging fire, putting it out easily. _No. It is not his fault. He said it himself – he doesn't support his father's methods. He put himself as far away from the mafia as possible, and didn't think anyone would come after him for it. His mother is not willing to leave her husband to keep her child safe, and Tsuna can't escape his parentage. It is __**not **__his fault. _

Back and forth the two sides argued as Ryohei continued to walk home, forcing himself not to run in order to preserve his energy for later. He would fight his father tonight in the ring, and see if he could get some clarity on the subject. His father was wise – he would listen to both sides of Ryohei, to the story Tsuna told, and tell Ryohei what he should do. But that was later, once darkness had fallen and his mother had left to sleep beside Kyoko in the hospital – a job Ryohei would have done, if not for his father's insistence that he keep his grades up. Part of the boxer had wanted to rebel when his father had given the order, but a single look from the older man had stopped him cold. _I know what's best for you boy, _the look had said, _so don't you dare go defying my orders. _

His fists clenched. Sometimes he hated the way he had grown up, the way his father had broken down his walls and rebuilt him into something capable of protecting the family. The way his father had subtly made it so that Ryohei was incapable of disobeying direct commands like that were the worst things to acknowledge in times like these, when all Ryohei wanted to do was free himself and do what felt _right. _

"Sasagawa-sempai?"

A familiar voice; Ryohei turned to find himself under the scrutiny of none other than Takeshi Yamamoto, on his way home from baseball practice. "Ah, Yamamoto-kun. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Just heading home. Uh, I don't mean to seem intrusive, but are you alright? You look a little… upset." The tone of his voice told Ryohei he was offering it as a suggestion rather than an actual fact. Not that Ryohei could blame him; he had too many emotions bouncing around inside him to be able to identify which was currently controlling him.

"Just some extreme family business. I'm alright. Did practice go well?"

"Yeah! We're all ready for tomorrow's big game. You'll be there, right sempai?"

"Of course. I've yet to miss a single one of your games, just like you've yet to miss a single one of my matches," Ryohei couldn't help looking a bit smug at that. Yamamoto chuckled, sharing the mood easily. They had been tight friends since third grade and always made a habit of checking how the other was doing in terms of schooling and other such things. It helped that Yamamoto's weaknesses seemed to be Ryohei's strengths and vice-versa in terms of school work, which often lead to them studying together for tests. Their fathers got along as well, and the two older men would sometimes bring their boy along to hang out while the adults talked.

Takeshi had been there in times when Ryohei was uncertain, and had his back when things got tricky. The boxer had always felt he had a bit of a debt to pay where Takeshi was concerned, especially when he was younger and had gotten caught up with a group of older boys who were planning to "teach him a lesson"; if Takeshi hadn't stepped in when he did, Ryohei probably would have ended up as a smear on the pavement. As it was, both boys got a nasty scar for their efforts and Kyoko fussed over them like a mother hen for a week. The feeling of camaraderie made the boxer wonder if he should perhaps consult Takeshi on the matter at hand.

_It can't hurt to give it a shot. _

"Takeshi, can I ask your opinion on an extreme matter?"

"Sure, what's up?" Takeshi relaxed, bat over his shoulder, other hand in his pocket.

"Well… you know how my sister is in the hospital right now?"

"Mm-hm."

"Well, I just came from the house of the guy who… is inadvertently responsible for it."

Ryohei felt a shiver go down his spine as Takeshi's not-nice smile took over his face and his eyes darkened. It wasn't rage, per say, but more… discontentment. "Oh?"

"Yeah. He took extreme responsibility for his actions, apologized and said he was careless, because if it weren't for that, Kyoko would still be okay." Ryohei felt his fists clench and a burn start behind his eyes. Part of him was starting to crumple from the stress. "I respect him for that much."

"That sounds decent of him. And it's rather gracious of _you, _considering." Takeshi's gaze was starting to lighten a little, although the smile was the same. "So what do you need my advice for?"

"I… can't bring myself to hate him. But I can't bring myself to outright _forgive _him, either. So I'm wondering what I should do at this point. I mean, we see each other in school all the time, and I don't want to just walk away. I…can't. It sounds extremely lame I know, but—"

Takeshi was already nodding in understanding. "If you walked away, you'd be hurting him, and you don't have the ability to do that. Not intentionally."

"Yeah."

There was a ponderous silence as Takeshi looked up to the sky, seeming to gaze at the clouds in mindless enjoyment. Ryohei knew that he was really putting his thoughts into the problem though, working it out slowly. He leaned against a nearby wall as he waited, fingers twisting themselves in his bandages. Takeshi couldn't be rushed on important matters. It might take him a few minutes, an hour, a day or even a week. Ryohei wasn't going to push him – if the answer didn't come from Takeshi, then he'd go to his father and present the problem. Either way, he needed to get an answer.

Fortunately, luck seemed to be on his side. Takeshi stopped looking at the sky and smiled, this time much more genuine. "You should talk to him. Have a heart-to-heart, and work some stuff out. Let him know your feelings, mend any broken fences, etc etc."

"And you think that'll do it?"

"Not necessarily. But it should be a start. Just make sure he comes to you; you don't go to him. From what you told me, this guy already put his guts on display knowing your temper – I think the next step should be in a setting of _his _choice, not yours."

"So basically, give him the home-field advantage?"

Takeshi laughed. "Something like that, yeah!"

With that laugh, the last of Ryohei's lingering aggression faded away. Tsunayoshi didn't deserve his anger, and wouldn't be receiving it anytime soon. He'd still talk to his father tonight, for good measure, but if what Takeshi said was true, he and the boy would be able to work things out and eventually come to an understanding regarding this whole mess.

"Thanks Takeshi. I extremely think this should work!" Feeling better than he had that morning, the boxer began to jog for home, grinning.

"Haha, well, I do what I can. Glad to see you're feeling better. See you tomorrow then?" Takeshi called, waving at him in farewell.

"Of course!" With that, Ryohei rounded the corner and changed his jog into a full-blown sprint, feeling lighter than he had in a long while.


	3. Chapter 3

_Mark Two: Callous, Cold, Continuous (Underestimated)_

**August 6th, 7:20 PM/Sawada House**

"_Tsu-kun? Are you alright? You've been rather quiet since your friends left,"_ The soft voice of his mother called to him from beyond the closed door of his room. Tsuna forced himself to open tired, tear-crusted eyes and drag himself out of his blanket-cocoon just long enough to answer.

"I'm fine. Just tired, is all."

"_Oh, okay. Well your father said he'll be home in fifteen minutes, and dinner will be ready by then. Don't forget to wash your hands and face before you come down."_

"I won't. Thank you for telling me, Mom."

The footsteps faded down the stairs and Tsuna sank back into his pillow, pressing his face into the white cloth to muffle the sounds of distress. Although he had told the truth to Ryohei, rather than make him feel better he was only feeling worse, like something rotten was eating him inside out. He knew the reason for the feelings came from Ryohei's refusal to hit him. Tsuna had never enjoyed the thought of being hurt, but sometimes it was necessary – and during that confrontation this evening, he had needed to be hit. Being hit meant anger, meant that he was still a human being in the eyes of his enemy. But Ryohei had flat-out ignored him, refusing to even look at him, and that alone told Tsuna just how low he'd sunk on Ryohei's radar.

_Ignorance of the enemy is blatant disrespect. Looking away, refusing to meet their gaze and acting like they aren't there all say the same thing in any language – "You aren't worth my time." _The pain in his chest flared at the old book recitation, and Tsuna pressed his face deeper into the pillow, willingly trying to smother himself. Meanwhile, a familiar voice made itself known in Tsuna's head. _You're worrying over nothing, you know. _

"Am not," he mumbled back, choosing not to dwell on the fact that he was talking to himself.

_If Ryohei honestly thought you weren't worth his time, he wouldn't have bothered showing up. You're drawing up grand schemes for something that hasn't even occurred – that __**won't **__occur._

"You sound so sure."

_Because I am sure. Look, the most you have to look forward to is probably Hana cornering you in school tomorrow and demanding to know "the truth". And you'll tell her the same thing you told her last night. She'll shrug it off until evidence is presented. _

"What about Chrome?"

_The girl is smart; much more so than most give her credit for. She knows without a doubt what you said this evening was the truth. And she'll act on it, I imagine, sooner or later. _

Tsuna huffed quietly. He hated admitting how nice a scenario that sounded – how _safe, _how simple. He would have loved nothing more for it to be true, to be able to believe that that scenario was _exactly _what would happen, but he knew from experience that nothing concerning his family was ever safe or simple. More than likely this would be dragged out over several days, and Tsuna would end up with a mess on his hands before the week was out. Damage control would have to be done, most likely, if it wasn't being done by his father already. Tsuna loathed his father's employment with ever fiber of his being, but even he knew that there would be situations where the mafia could get around far easier than a normal person could. He tried to keep situations like that to a minimum, to better avoid having to ask his father – or rather, ask _Iemitsu _– for help.

He laid there for a minute, thinking about the situation at hand and how he was going to handle it in the coming days. He was so lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't hear the front door open and close again, or his father's hearty call of return. Sighing through his nose, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes; feeling utterly exhausted all of a sudden. The adrenaline must have finally died down.

_You need to go down and see your family. Eat, recover your strength. You can put off the worrying until tomorrow. _

Unwilling to argue against the warm, coaxing voice inside his own head, Tsuna merely nodded and uncurled himself from his blanket, hissing in pain when his wounded arm pressed against the bed. The bullet was still lodged in his arm; the most he'd done so far was wrap a length of gauze bandaging around it to keep any further infection out. He knew he had to visit the hospital soon, but he wasn't exactly sure how to explain a bullet in his arm yet, especially given that he was only a boy in the eyes of most adults, and normal boys didn't keep bullets in their arms. If he went and had it removed, there was a chance the police would become involved – something his father regularly tried to keep out of their lives.

_You could always ask Iemitsu about it._

The thought drew him short at the door. He supposed he could ask his fa—Iemitsu about it. After all, he was a made mafia man; surely he would know how to successfully remove a bullet from the arm of his son.

Downstairs, his father was cheerfully chatting with his wife, talking about the sudden call he had gotten from his boss about some animal or another endangered and needing assistance, which was why Iemitsu had ducked out all of a sudden when Tsuna's little friends had come over. A different child might have assumed they'd gone unnoticed, but Tsuna was no fool. He felt Iemitsu's eyes on him, looked over to see the man's eyes dart to his wounded arm and then back up to his face. A sudden flash of irritation at the man caused Tsuna to turn slightly, tugging his shirt down over the gauze to hide it more effectively. Those eyes narrowed, but Iemitsu's tone did not change as he continued to prattle on.

Dinner was a mostly quiet affair for Tsuna, who looked down at his plate and nowhere else, eating with the single-minded intensity of a starved man. Everything tasted like ash, but he didn't care. He needed to eat, regain his strength before he dealt with Iemitsu. The man was merciless when he wanted to be, and often times he found himself on the receiving end of that nature, dealing with the mafia man instead of the father. It was a transition he was used to, but refused to adapt to. When he finished eating he sat back in his chair and waited for the adults to finish their food, half-heartedly listening to his mother's giggles while his father cooed nonsense in her ears.

At long last though they were finished, and Nana was putting their plates in the sink to be washed. "Nana dear," Iemitsu smiled, eyes hard on Tsuna despite the silky tone he seduced his wife with, "would you give us an hour or so alone? I've things I want to discuss with my growing boy."

"Of course! You two talk as long as you need to, I'll be upstairs waiting when you're done." The look she gave Iemitsu promised something Tsuna preferred not to think about; she dropped one last kiss on her husband's cheek before disappearing upstairs. It was only when the door closed that Iemitsu made a move, roughly shoving the chair back and moving to Tsuna's side, all black cunning and grace. He started like a frightened animal when Iemitsu gripped his arm, tugging him up and easily ripping the fabric hiding his wound away.

"Do you have to be such a savage about it?" Tsuna found himself asking quietly, nostrils flared as his fists clenched at his side. Iemitsu gave him a short glare, looking back to the wound when Tsuna returned it.

"I'm not being a savage, Tsunayoshi. If I were, you'd be the first one to know."

Despite the fact that the man was nothing but gentle when pulling the gauze away, Tsuna refused to relax. He had known pain at the hands of this man before, and it was far better to expect and not receive it then to not expect it and receive it. "Why are you bothering anyway? Can't you just call someone in and have them lie to the hospital staff?"

"Because it's my mess to clean up."

Callused fingers prodded the dark red mess and Tsuna jerked, hissing between clenched teeth in response to the pain. His foot kicked in response when Iemitsu did it again, knocking the chair behind him over. "Stop that," Iemitsu ordered, tone warning. Tsuna stilled, lips starting to curl back in the start of a snarl.

Iemitsu tugged him clear of the chair, then picked him up without warning and sat him on the dinner table, rolling the ripped sleeve of his shirt up over his shoulder. "Stay," he ordered the boy, before moving into the living room for his bag. Tsuna gripped the edges of the table and fought not to hurl profanities at the man. He felt like he was a wild animal being led around on an incredibly short leash, unable to bite the man that held it, unable to chew the leash off and flee. He was trapped by the man he called his father, unable to do more than snap and twist in weak attempts to lead the man off his trail. It would never work, but Tsuna didn't care; as long as he didn't go down without a fight.

Iemitsu reappeared with a black cloth roll of … something. A chill suddenly ran down the boy's spine and he sucked in a harsh breath, closing his eyes. Somehow, he knew what was in that thing. Those were his father's tools – what he would be using to get the bullet out of Tsuna's arm. _I don't think I've ever wanted to go to the hospital more in my life._

A basin of hot water, a washcloth and a pouch of something that smelled suspiciously like fresh-cut herbs were also put on the table before the black pouch was unraveled, revealing several small knives, tweezers, four scalpels and a folded-up ice pick. There was also a strange black cloth in one of the pouches; Iemitsu removed that with one of the scalpels and the tweezers. He rolled the cloth up tight and then put it in front of Tsuna's mouth. "Bite."

As much as Tsuna wanted to rebel, he realized that the gag was necessary, unless he wanted every house within the block to hear his screams. He bit savagely, nicking his father's finger and causing the man to chuckle unexpectedly. Iemitsu always seemed so amused by Tsuna's efforts to escape. The warm cloth was draped over one side the basin, the strange powder sprinkled in and swirled around. The scalpel was examined, cleaned and then picked up.

Tsuna turned his head away at the last second, refusing to watch the first bead of blood well up as his father pressed the scalpel to the wound.

* * *

"_Has the evidence been erased?"_

It was a few hours after midnight. His darling Nana was sound asleep upstairs, and Tsunayoshi was dead to the world on the couch. Not that Iemitsu could blame him. A combination of blood loss and the relaxant herbs he had used would make anyone exhausted; it had affected Tsunayoshi more easily since that had been his first exposure to such elements. Elements that, if Iemitsu had his way, his son would not be presented with ever again.

It wasn't that he didn't think Tsuna could handle it. His son was a fighter, without a doubt. He was also a rebellious, wild creature at times, earlier being a fine example of that. He hadn't struggled or moved or made a single noise, unlike the many men Iemitsu had removed bullets from before. But he hadn't relaxed either; once the scalpel had dug in, his spine had snapped straight and true, his head and turned away and his breathing had practically gone silent. Iemitsu had completed the removal in absolute silence, not bothering to question the boy's quivering muscles beneath his clothes, or the tight way he clenched the muscles of his neck. When he had finished and rewrapped the wound, Tsuna had spat the gag into his hand and hopped off the table, wordlessly leaving the kitchen. Iemitsu had found him unconscious on the sixth step and carried him back downstairs, putting him on the couch.

Now he stood here, phone tucked into the crook of his shoulder as he discussed recent events with Nono, wondering where he'd gone wrong in raising his son. He was hardly blind; he knew Tsunayoshi hated him with every fiber of his being, saw how strongly he opposed Iemitsu's involvement in the mafia. But he didn't understand it, the hatred or the opposition. Iemitsu had been raised in the mafia, raised to know what the mafia was and what he had to expect in the coming years. There had been no surprises, no questions; he'd done as he'd asked, and eventually found himself a good home with Nono when he was sixteen. A mere boy in the eyes of the law, and yet a full-grown man where Nono stood. Under the man's keen eyes and gentle but firm hand Iemitsu had blossomed into a _soldat, _and then _capo, _and then finally stopped at the position of _consigliere, _where Iemitsu stood even to this day. Iemitsu wanted that for Tsunayoshi; wanted him to find a place where he would belong. But everything he tried got thrown back in his face, every encounter went awry somehow and ended with Tsuna furious at him, snarling and trying to flee the house. Honest to god, the man wasn't sure what to do at this point.

"_Yes. The bullet was erased after it was removed."_

"_And your son?"_

A small smile quirked his face. _"Dead to the world on the couch. What about yours?"_

A hefty sigh came from the other side of the phone, the sound a father would make when he was going on nothing but coffee and exhaustion. _"Enrico is preparing for his coronation, and Federico and Massimo are helping him."_

"_And Xanxus?"_

"_Sulking in his bedroom." _There was a hint of bemused fatherly love in his tone this time. Despite the fact that Xanxus was not his child, the Ninth had still adopted and raised the boy as lovingly as his own. When Xanxus had confronted him two years back about a diary he'd found, where the Ninth had supposedly revealed Xanxus was not his, everyone had expected Xanxus to go into a wild fury and rain destruction on their heads. But he hadn't. His brothers had gotten to him before he could get to his father, and calmed him down before he approached the Ninth. Nono had explained his reasons, and Xanxus, while still a bit upset over the betrayal, had understood. _"It seems one of our guests paid him an especially nasty comment; luckily Massimo was there to break it up before it got too bad. Xanxus is upset because Massimo wouldn't let him kill the fool."_

"_A wise choice. The Vongola can't afford to go to war right now." _

Iemitsu paused, a thought suddenly occurring to him. This talk of sons had suddenly brought his into perspective. _"Say Nono, how old is Xanxus?"_

"_Hmm? Oh, he's going on his twenty-fourth year in a few days. Why do you ask?"_

Slowly, Iemitsu outlined all that had gone on, as well as the thought he had come up with during his and Nono's discussion. When he was done, there was a long silence over the line as Nono considered it. Iemitsu held his breath and waited, knowing that when it came to decisions concerning his boys, there would be no rush of any sort. At long last Nono began to speak again, and Iemitsu hung on to his every word.

"_It sounds like you've thought this through. While I admit I've never had the urge to run away from this life myself, I can understand why Tsunayoshi acts the way he does, and I'm not entirely sure pitting him against Xanxus would be a good idea, especially given Xanxus' tendency towards violence in unappealing situations." _There was a brief pause, and Iemitsu prayed to every god he knew that this wish of his would go through. _"But Xanxus is in need of someone to teach him patience. On that level, I believe a social interaction would be good for both boys." _

Tsuna suddenly shifted on the couch and Iemitsu jerked, having forgotten his son was there. In his ear, he heard Nono say, _"Give me some time to think about this seriously Iemitsu. You've laid a heavy idea on my shoulders, and I intend to look at it from all angles before making a decision."_

"_Of course, sir," _Iemitsu replied dutifully, feeling a knot in his chest loosen. This might just work after all.

"_Well then, I will see you in three days. Give your family my regards."_

"_Of course, sir. Ciao."_

"_Ciao."_

The line clicked, and it was silent once more.


	4. Chapter 4

_Mark Three: Bitter Coffee To Start the Day (Absent)_

**August 7th, 2:20 AM/ Vongola Estate**

"_Give some time to think about this seriously, Iemitsu. You've laid a heavy idea on my shoulders, and I intend to look at it from all angles before making a decision."_

"_Of course, sir."_

"_Well then, I'll see you in three days. Give your family my regards."_

"_Of course sir. Ciao."_

"_Ciao."_

Novella frowned as the line went dead. Gently depositing the earpiece back into the cradle, he turned and made himself scarce from the hallway, knowing that Nono's men were soon to make their rounds again. He didn't need to be caught to know what sort of hell awaited him if it was discovered he was listening in on Nono Vongola's conversation with his advisor. Although he had to say, that conversation had certainly gleaned a lot of information, especially pertaining to the man's social life.

Smiling pleasantly at one of the maids as she passed by, he fought to conceal his glee. Three days until Iemitsu returned, was it? A lot could happen in three days. Like say, a tip-off from an anonymous source to the Soolu that Iemitsu's son was vulnerable and open for preying upon. The Soolu had never gotten over that day all those years ago, when Iemitsu had single-handedly slaughtered an entire task force of men when they had entered Japan. They wanted Iemitsu dead, and were willing to go to any lengths to achieve their mission.

Fortunately, the Soolu were not alone in their endeavors. There was more than one way to skin a cat, after all, and more than one man that wanted to see Iemitsu Sawada dead. All it would take was time and a little preparation.

_Tsunayoshi Sawada… for what you are about to endure, I do so apologize, but your father needs to learn a lesson about manners. And what better way to teach man manners than to break his son?_

* * *

**August 7th, 6:40 AM/ Sawada House**

Tsuna woke to an incessant growling in his stomach and a throbbing pain in his right arm. Brow furrowing, he opened his eyes and tried to make sense of why he wasn't seeing his TV and desk like normal. The bed also seemed a bit smaller than he remembered – and where were his blankets? Trying not to move his arms too much, he shifted back and felt around, piecing together the image in his head until it connected with something he recognized - the living room.

Wait, why was he in the living room? He should have been in his own bed after what happened last night. Putting his weight on the uninjured arm and gritting his teeth, he pushed himself upright and tried to make sense of it all. He remembered going downstairs for dinner, the talk with Iemitsu, and the removal of the bullet. After that though, things went a little hazy. He remembered storming off after the removal was complete, anger and fear in his veins that slowly faded away the further he walked. By the time he'd been on the stairs, he hadn't felt anything but a need to sleep.

If he had collapsed on the stairway instead of in his room, then it would explain why he was on the couch. Rolling his neck and sighing happily when it popped, he stood and made his way towards the nearest clock to check the time. As soon as he saw the numbers he groaned; it was nearly time for school to start, and he had only just woken up. Mentally damning Iemitsu for his ability to sleep like a hibernating bear, he made a quick trip upstairs to change his clothes and straighten himself out as best he could before returning downstairs and debating whether or not he'd have time for breakfast.

"Morning."

The sound that emerged from the teenager's throat was somewhere between a squeal and a snarl as he jumped, feet tangling themselves up and sending him face first into the carpet. From where he stood leaning against the wall nursing a cup of hot coffee in his hand, Iemitsu raised a brow towards his child. Was Tsunayoshi truly so clumsy? And for that matter, was he really that deaf too? "You know, if I was an enemy, you'd be dead by now."

His son pushed himself upright, shooting a withering look towards the blond in the process. "Don't _do _that! I've just barely woken up, I don't need any surprises!"

"You just now woke up?" Now Iemitsu had the gall to look disappointed, as if he didn't approve of his son waking up at such a late hour. "You do realize you've got about fifteen minutes until school starts, right?"

"I'm aware," Tsuna hissed, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists as he forgot about breakfast in favor of throwing on a jacket and finding where his bag was at. It was hiding behind the couch where he didn't recall throwing it. "Have you been going through my stuff again?"

"Your grades are regularly oscillating, Tsunayoshi. I'm just making sure you're at where you need to be." As always, Iemitsu's manner of speaking was infuriating calm and logical, as if invading his son's privacy on a regular schedule was the most common thing in the world. Tsuna screwed his eyes shut, pushing the heels of his hands into them in a desperate attempt not to strangle and/or throw things at the man before him.

"Fine. You know what? Just _fine. _Do whatever the hell you want. I'm done." Turning on heel, he strode for the door, slipping his shoes on. Behind him, Iemitsu made a tiny noise of surprise.

"Aren't you going to eat breakfast?"

"I'll go without," Tsuna snapped, not even bothering to hold his tongue this time. He threw the door open, pulling the hood of his sweater up as he stepped outside into the cold morning air. The last thing he saw on his father's face before he shut the door was exasperation. Then he was locking the door and leaping over the fence, feet slapping the pavement in a familiar rhythm as he began to run his way to school, not stopping to think when he got a stitch in his side or his bag started to slip. He just kept running, relishing in whatever pain or exhaustion was thrown at him, knowing that this at least was his choice, rather than his father's. This, at least, Iemitsu could never take away from him.

School loomed large before long, the brunette slowing to a trot at the sight of it. He stood at the gates, mind taking him back to the incident the day before. Some part of him felt like he was violating the grounds by being here after all that had happened, and the rest of him was all too happy to be here. School was the one place he seemed to be able to go and relax, forget about his father's work and his own crumbling self, despite the fact that it was also where his life seemed to be in the most danger. It was a twisted sort of safety, one that Tsuna readily embraced.

_Iemitsu's not so different from this place, you know. _

Tsuna's breath hissed out of his teeth as the patient voice that had coaxed him out of his anxiety not a day before returned, speaking in the same low murmur it always had. School was nothing like Iemitsu, he thought savagely, because in order for it to be like Iemitsu it would mean that bastard would actually have to _care _about him.

_He cares. He loves. He protects. You just haven't seen it yet._

He refused to be swayed. That man and he shared blood – if you couldn't show those kinds of emotions to your own _blood, _then who _could _you show them to? The Family? The mafia was nothing more than a bunch of bloodthirsty beasts following one another around, circling like vultures while they waited for a meal. When he had been younger he might have believed that all was right and good and Iemitsu was a decent father, but that time in his life was over. He'd seen the darkness his father existed in, and it made him sick. The voice sighed heavily, as if its patience was waning.

_You know nothing about his work, and yet you judge it so harshly. There may come a time when __**you **__are required to stand in his place – do you really believe his Boss will let you slip away, knowing the relation between you two? You're his son; it's practically a requirement that you follow in his footsteps and strive to be as powerful as he is, if not stronger. Iemitsu himself as said as much on numerous occasions. _

No, no, _**no. **_Absolutely not. He would _never _even _consider _becoming what his father was. A bastard abandoning his wife and child for a bunch of strangers – there was dedication to work, and then there was just plain abandonment. And Iemitsu had long since crossed the line into abandonment. Fuming, the teenager quickened his pace and lengthened his stride, as if walking faster would allow him to escape the voice lurking in the back of his head. He rounded the corner to the classroom just as the bell rang; the knowledge that he was now officially late gave him a perverse sort of pleasure. Iemitsu _hated _being late, and chided him on it just as often. And here he was, adding another thorn into daddy-dearest's side. He slid open the door to his classroom, wiping the smirk off his face in favor of blowing low. "I apologize for being late."

In the middle of taking attendance, the science teacher Dohachiro turned to glare at the boy. "_Sawada,_ tardy again. I hope you realize how badly this will reflect upon your upcoming tests." The unspoken threat made the hairs on the back of Tsuna's neck raise and the voice in his mind hiss in displeasure, although he said nothing. "Truly, out of all the students I've taught these many years at Namimori, you are one of the most _useless. _Take your seat!"

"Yes, sensei." Ignoring the odd freezing sensation that he always seemed to get whenever around the man, Tsuna walked past his snickering classmates to his own seat, grateful for the cold touch of the plastic and wood. Nezu Dohachiro might have been his teacher, but that didn't automatically garner him respect. Especially considering he was constantly harassing those students that either put too little effort into their work and got perfect marks, or put too much effort into their work and still didn't get high marks. Tsuna made average marks at best, but he was still mocked although it was for something else entirely.

Simply put, Dohachiro had a habit of sticking his nose in other peoples' business, and had heard the rumors related to Tsuna's sudden transfer to Namimori. The man had done some digging, and was now convinced the teen was some sort of gang-affiliated punk posing as a 'normal kid' in order to gain favor with his fellow students and teachers. Most of the time the jabs Dohachiro took at him were small enough that Tsuna could roll his eyes at them or dismiss them flat-out and focus on the rest of his day. But occasionally he would hit something just right, or say something that made him flash back, and that was when the eerie sensation of unnatural _cold _would seep in, and Tsuna would find himself hard-pressed not to snap back.

Tsuna honestly didn't know what the unnatural cold was. He had had it ever since childhood, just like the voice. But unlike the voice, it didn't serve as a helpful guide, but more of a… warning, if at all that. Certain people triggered the cold, but most of the time it was things said, things done. When the cold came, Tsuna felt powerful in a calm sort of way. Like the middle of a storm. There were other strange things too, like the heat that burned through his eyes. Sometimes, just like with the cold, certain people would show up and Tsuna would feel his eyes burn. But unlike the cold, which urged him away from the person that had caused it, the warmth actually made him seek the cause out. When he had met Hana and the other girls, the warmth had been there, but very faint.

Lately, the warmth had surged, and then receded around the girls – Tsuna wondered if maybe the recent argument had anything to do with it. He pondered this as he half-listened to Dohachiro babble on about trinomials and other things that would be on the test. Truth be told, he knew what would already be on the test, and had studied it intensely in the past few weeks. He knew no more studying would do anything that his current knowledge wouldn't, and so instead of freaking out like some of his other classmates were doing relaxed and let the words fly over his head. He caught Dohachiro glaring at him once or twice, heard a couple of sniggers here and there, but apart from that it was just like every other day. Well, minus a bullet in the arm and a classmate. Which reminded him – he needed to talk to Ryohei. Today. As much as the thought terrorized his stomach and threatened to unbalance his already fragile mind, he knew things were far from done between them. They needed closure, and to get it Tsuna would have to risk his life (again) and enter foreign territory. The last time they had talked, they had been in _his_ house, on _his_ property. Now it was time to talk to Ryohei on his field. It was time to enter the boxing ring, and let Ryohei get in a few swings. Tsuna just hoped that he would live long enough to see the end result of his confrontation.

Class ended on an abrupt note not long after that; one of the other teachers from down the hall came and informed the science teacher that someone had set a fire in one of the labs, and while it hadn't gone far before one of the aides on duty had seen it and put it out, there was still a few damaged items that needed to be looked at. Tsuna didn't miss the hot fury in Dohachiro's eyes, or the poisonous glare he shot at Tsuna, as if the teen had somehow done it when he hadn't been looking. The class had been dismissed for a ten minute break while he put everything back in order, and by the time he came back the bell for the next class had rung. Tsuna, knowing the man was watching and waiting for him, quickly gathered his things and merged with the rest of his classmates as they headed out the door. He really didn't want to be left alone with Nezu Dohachiro right now, given what had just occurred. He was stupid, but he wasn't _that _stupid.

_Incoming. _

Huh?

That was all the warning he got. As he was walking turning the corner to head downstairs where his next class was located, he found himself gasping quietly as he nearly walked into Ryohei, whose quick grab at his shoulders were the only thing that stopped him from knocking the other back down the stairs he had just climbed. For a moment all Tsuna could think was _this is it, this is when I die _because Ryohei's hands were gripping his shoulders a bit harder than normal, and he hadn't let _go _yet. They stared at each other, one in anxiety and one in determination, neither sure about how to handle the confrontation. They could have ignored each other if they had _only _passed by one another, but to actually interact was another level entirely. Ignorance would not be bliss at this point; it would be cowardice. So Ryohei forced himself to take several deep breaths and Tsuna put his trust in the fact that Ryohei was _not _about to hit him and decided just to get on with this whole damned thing because he was getting _tired _of being afraid, even more so than normal.

"Sasagawa-san, I—"

"Sawada-kun, I—"

They stared at each other, identical flushes rising to their faces. Okay, so maybe this was harder than they thought. Tsuna's inner voice was bashing its head against the proverbial wall, muttering _foolish boy, so damned foolish _and trying not to tell him to just cover Ryohei's mouth and tell him what he needed to tell him. When Tsuna merely retorted that it couldn't have done much better, the challenge was snatched before the final thought had even been broadcast. "Sasagawa-san, do you have some free time during lunch?" The words came before Tsuna could as much as think about stopping them. _Take that, boy. _

Ryohei nodded stiffly, hands flexing on Tsuna's shoulders. Truth be told, now that he had the boy in his grasp, he was rather reluctant to pull away. This was no longer about hatred or upset, but about fostering friendship and mending fences and whatever else Takeshi had said to do. Ryohei had always been a touchy-feely kind of guy, and in order to foster friendship touch was sometimes necessary. Plus, Sawada really didn't seem to mind – which was odd considering half a second ago he looked about ready to jump out of his own skin. "Sure, I can make some time. I'm usually in the boxing club—"

"Excellent. I need to talk to you about Kyoko and our relationship. I'd prefer to do it sooner rather than later. Is that acceptable?"

It was everything Ryohei had been hoping for and more. He gripped the boy's shoulders hard, eyes glowing with respect. This boy was strong, and he was honest – two things Ryohei could bond over more than anything else. "Yes to the extreme! I'll extremely listen to whatever you have to say, Sawada!"

The boy smiled, and Ryohei found his heart stopping for a second. It was a _nice _smile. He suddenly understood why his sister liked Tsunayoshi so much. There was this aura around the guy that just made you want to like him. "Perfect. I'll see you during lunch then in the boxing room. Thanks for listening, Sasagawa-sempai."

Ryohei was finally forced to let go as Tsuna sped off to his next class. For a long moment afterwards he found himself standing there, staring at the spot the brunette had just stood in. He recalled the fierce look in those eyes, the defiant stance, as if he were challenging the boxer to decline his thoughts. It had been the stance of a man ready to fight for what he believed in, and truth be told it was enough to make Ryohei's blood boil. A familiar feeling was washing over him like a wave during high tide, making him shiver. It was the same feeling he always got when faced with a strong opponent who could very well knock him on his ass.

Speaking of which…

"Herbivore, you are fifteen minutes late to class, and you don't have a hall pass. For such a transgression, I will bite you to death."

Another shiver ran over him, and Ryohei grinned at the approaching figure sweeping down on him. "I'll take that extreme challenge, Hibari."

* * *

Lunch came much sooner than Tsuna expected, but that was probably because the voice in his head kept evading his attempts to scold it like an errant child. He tried to tell it that it had no right to do what it did, but it merely replied that he had issued the challenge, not it. Then he tried telling it just how nosy it was, and was reminded of just how often it had bailed him out of sticky situations. By the end of it all Tsuna was curled up at his desk in a morose mood while the voice sat silent in the back of his mind, radiating smugness.

_Don't feel bad, boy. I know your mind better than you do. It's just a matter of experience, that's all._

Tsuna raised his head as he trudged to where the boxing club was located, trying not to panic at the sight of it. This wasn't going to end well, he just knew it!

_You're doing it again; you're thinking about something that might not even happen. Ryohei was in a good mood when we left – what makes you think you being you is going to change that?_

Because I'm a clutz and an idiot and too much trouble, Tsuna replied, throwing the voice's earliest complaints back at it. You said it yourself, I can't manage well without you.

_Good thing you won't be without me then. Just take a deep breath, relax, and go slow. Don't push yourself, and don't try to make excuses. Okay? Everything will work out, I promise._

"You say that like you're so damned sure," Tsuna muttered as he grasped the door, opening it to reveal the boxing ring, and Ryohei, dressed up in a uniform, waiting for him. Tsuna felt his stomach go cold.

_Because I __**am**__. Now, deep breath. He won't bite._

He's waiting for me. He's in a **_boxing uniform. _**

_Oh, so he is. Well then, best not keep him waiting, hm? Go on, get in there!_

It was like someone gently but firmly led him inside, because the next thing Tsuna knew the door was closing behind him, and he was climbing into the ring, facing a determined and rather exuberant-looking Ryohei. "Sawada! You're extremely on time!"

I was supposed to be on time?

_Yes. What can I say, I prefer being on time over tardiness. _Tsuna could practically feel the accusing glare, and tried not to wilt under it. _Now, Ryohei expects a decent fight. You're going to give him one._

I never said anything about fighting in the first place!

_You shouldn't have to. You need to know the art of reading body language before any other kind of language. It helps you detect what's going on when no one is willing to be forthcoming with the information. Ryohei respects you, and will listen without the fight, but we'll be doing things faster if we fight him. So, give him all you've got and don't hold back._

I don't have anything to give; Tsuna thought as his hands began strapping gloves and a helmet into place against his wishes, I barely have enough to give myself, let alone someone else!

_Oh please, don't try that argument again. You and I both know that you can fight fine, even if you don't like to because of your attitude towards your father. But Ryohei isn't Iemitsu; he's your equal. You need to treat him like he treats you. Show him you mean business! _

The last of his excuses were crumbling away faster than he could build them. Tsuna tried for his final tactic. I don't want to hurt him.

_You won't. He can hold his own fine. Just let it go; I'll tell you when it's enough._

And Tsuna did. He took a deep breath, and let go of his worries, his concerns over what was going to happen. Ryohei would act, he would react in turn, and on it would go as long as it needed to. That was all there was to this dance; he could do it, so long as he didn't think about the finer details. Ryohei was watching him with a look that bordered on predatory; so completely serious and eerily calm that it sent a chill down the brunette's back. There was no bell to call out when to begin. Tsuna simply took up a firm stance and waited.

It didn't take long. Tsuna blinked and Ryohei was gone; a tingle ran down his neck and Tsuna rolled forward, dodging a strike that would have knocked him out. Keeping low, he waited until Ryohei moved close to start a barrage and opened himself up, bouncing on his toes. Rather than block the punches sent at him, Tsuna merely shifted side-to-side, wincing when a few grazed him, reminding him to pay attention to certain areas. Then, when he felt the energy shift and Ryohei begin to draw back, he struck. His attacks were not particularly strong, but they were fast. That was one thing Tsuna had worked on since he was a child; speed rather than strength. He'd had plenty of bullies to perfect the techniques over the years, which was how it was so easy to dodge Ryohei's vigorous attacks.

But even he was not without flaw. He moved too slow taking a step back, and found a fist planted squarely in his gut, wrenching a gasp out of him. The attack turned out to be the match to light the bomb. Tsuna lunged, ignoring the punches, and pounced on the other boy. It dissolved into a weird combination of a grappling/wrestling and boxing match not long after that, with Ryohei eventually pinning Tsuna beneath him for the count of ten before collapsing. Both were exhausted, Tsuna more than ready to just curl up and go to sleep somewhere. Why had this been a good idea again?

_Nicely done. And you didn't even need me to tell you when to stop._

Oh that's right, the mysterious voice in the back of his head told him to do it. Yeah, that sounded like a completely _legit, sane _reason. It was also the legit, sane reason he'd be keeping from anyone that asked, too. Groaning, he tried to get up, only to find himself still pinned. "S-sasagawa-sempai, please get off me."

Ryohei did so, and the two laid side by side, each trying to calm down their pounding heart. "So… what did you want to talk about, Sawada?"

"…can't remember. Something about what happened." He yawned, melting into the oddly comfortable ring. Why had no one ever informed him a boxing ring could double as a bed? "I think it was an apology or something."

"I want to tell Kyoko."

"Hmm, that sounds nice… wait _**WHAT?!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Mark Four: Confessions From the Heart (Agony)_

**August 8th, 10:00 AM/ Namimori Hospital**

Responsibility was a heavy burden to bear. Even more so when it was responsibility over another person's life. If it was possible to pass anxiety and fear along like a cold, Tsuna knew the whole of Namimori would be infected and he would have long been quarantined off as the start of the infection. The instant Ryohei had uttered the phrase _I want to tell Kyoko, _his entire world had shifted, doing a 180 and dumping his somewhat-peaceful reality back into the toilet. Not even the heartfelt reassurances from the voice in his head had stopped him from chewing his nails down to the nubs, or biting at his knuckles until they were raw, or putting crescent shaped scars in the palms of his hands from where he'd clenched them into fists. All of that had been done overnight, in the sleepless hours when Tsuna stared at the ceiling and tried not to think of how simple it would be to open his window and let himself just _drop _and never get back up.

Tsuna was scared. He had been scared before, but that had been an entirely different level of fear; at least it felt like it. Fear of his father had felt like a cold bucket of water, but laying on his back thinking of what he was supposed to say to Kyoko – things he had told the others but not her – felt like an entire arctic ocean dragging him down into a black abyss where there was no light, no hope of any kind.

He had gotten lucky with Ryohei. And while the jury was still out concerning Hana and Chrome, he'd like to think he'd gotten lucky with them too. At least none of them had run away screaming (yet) or were calling the police on him and his less-than-wholesome family. Small mercies, but mercies all the same. But Kyoko… she was different. Oh sure, she was nice and sweet and kind to small animals, but she was also _human._ And Tsuna hadn't stayed with her long enough to make a strong judgment concerning how she might think if confronted with something like this.

The worst part about all of this was Tsuna had told himself that he was tired of being scared – he said time and again that he wouldn't run away the next time something like this happened; he would command it before it could command him. But every time that feeling ran down his back he would scream and curl into a ball, running and hiding instead of facing what it was that scared him. He wanted to be brave, but every time he tried he only ended up becoming more of a coward.

Even then though, he was always forging on for the sake of someone else. _Ryohei, Hana, Chrome, Kyoko… I'm doing all of this for them. If it was up to me, with no one else involved, I'd run as far away as possible and never come back. I don't even have that luxury though. _Truth be told, Tsuna felt like a dog at this point; forever obeying the orders of everyone else, having his leash tugged on and yanked, told where not to go, which direction was the _right _and which _wasn't. _

Maybe that was why it was easy to walk up the stairs to Kyoko's room; Ryohei's back leading the way. He knew Ryohei was listening for his retreating footsteps. He also knew that he wouldn't even make it down half a flight before the boxer would have a grip on him. There was no escape from this confrontation; whether it went good or bad he would be forced to ride it out and suffer the consequences for his ignorance. He could still feel the fear from earlier inside him, poisoning his mind and whispering dark things as Ryohei opened the door to Kyoko's room and called out to her. However, the instant Tsuna heard her voice, all of that darkness seemed distant, his mind numb and silent as his body carried him inside. Ryohei quietly closed the door behind them as Tsuna rounded the first bed and found Kyoko waiting, a book in her lap.

"Oh, Tsuna-kun, you came to visit? How sweet of you!" Her smile was as kind as ever, as welcoming, but Tsuna felt none of the warmth he usually did. Still he tried to smile back, failing a bit, as he handed over the flowers his mother had given him to give to Kyoko.

"For you." He swallowed as his throat seemed to close up suddenly. He coughed into his shoulder as Kyoko took the flowers.

"Ah, are you coming down with something, Tsuna-kun? Maybe you shouldn't be in here with me…" Tsuna felt his mind go blank at the suggestion, a sliver of sensation returning to his body, emotions hitting him hard before disappearing again. _**Fearanxietyallmyfaultallmyfaultallmyfault—**_

"Kyoko," Ryohei started gruffly, coming to Tsuna's side and clasping him on the shoulder. The touch reminded Tsuna of why he was here, and he snapped out of his trance. "Sawada here has something extreme to tell you. He has to stay." _No argument._

Tsuna nodded when Kyoko looked to him for confirmation. "Yes. I— I need to talk to you about your shooting."

"Oh." Her eyes got a little bit wider, though not in understanding. More like… sadness. Depression. "I see. Well then Tsuna-kun, come sit by me and we'll talk, okay?"

"I'll be outside." Ryohei moved back towards the door. Tsuna closed his eyes as it clicked shut, inhaling a deep breath and casting one final prayer to the heavens – _please let this be the right choice. _

Kyoko scooted over a little, patting the bed. "Come. Sit."

Tsuna sat, gripping the edge of the bed, and letting his legs dangle instead of dragging them close to his chest like he wanted to do. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

He swallowed, forcing his throat to work, pushing the words out. His voice was quiet, almost raspy, but Kyoko heard the words well enough. "Did Ryohei explain the situation to you at all? Or have you been visited by anyone dressed in a black suit, with the name _Vongola, _in the past few hours?"

Kyoko thought back. Come to think of it, there had been one man in here like that. "Yes. An elderly man in a nice suit came and gave me an apology. At the time I thought he might have been one of the witnesses that tried to help. Why do you ask?"

So Timoteo had already been here. Or one of his men had, at least. Probably the latter, seeing as Timoteo was the head of the Vongola, and wouldn't come out for anything less than a public strike on his people. "This man… did he offer you money? Ask you not to mention this to anyone?"

"Mm… no, he just said that he had heard about the accident, and wanted to offer his condolences. Although, come to think of it, the bill for my stay has been awfully small. At least, that's what Mama told me when she came to visit last night."

Tsuna shut his eyes, throat dry. Okay, so one of Timoteo's men had shown up to apologize on Iemitsu's behalf and foot the bill. He made a mental note to ask his father was the price had been – the mafia was very strict about paying back debts on a neat and timely order, and he had no intentions of being caught in the death trap of the taxing systems they used. "Kyoko… that man that showed up is someone very important. I can't tell you everything, but I'll just say he's from a very influential part of Italy, and," he swallowed, wetting his throat again, "my father works for his boss."

"Okay." The girl nodded. Truth be told she was a little confused, but she kept the detail in mind despite that. "How does this have anything to do wi—"

"Please." He winced as his voice cracked. He turned his head aside, staring at the walls and forcing himself not to cry. "My father's boss is part of the mafia, Kyoko."

There was a small silence. Then, "Okay."

"My father is a powerful man. He's very… wanted. A lot of people would pay good money to see him dead."

"I take it these people are in the same business as your father's boss?"

"Yes."

"Okay." How could she sound so calm? He expected rage, upset, and tears, anything but calm! "Then your father is part of this… mafia?"

"Yes." _Damn you to hell, Iemitsu._

"…Tsuna-kun, are you fixing to tell me what I think you are?"

She was a smart girl. Sharp as a tack. In the mafia, she would be well-respected, Tsuna thought glumly. He forced himself to turn and face her, and flinched when he saw the steely gaze directed at him. "My father has enemies, Kyoko. I am Iemitsu's son, and as much as I hate the mafia and want nothing to do with it, I can't change that." He licked his lips, hands clenching till they were bone white on the sheets. "The man who shot you wasn't after you. He was after _me,_ because I'm Iemitsu's son, and apparently it's a big thing in the mafia to inherit your father's position after he retires." He didn't mention how he had no intentions of doing so – she probably already knew that as well.

For a long time, Kyoko didn't say anything. Tsuna stared at the sheets in front of him, wondering why the bed was shaking. It took him a moment to realize that he was the one shaking, not the bed. _Stop being so weak. Stop quivering. Just. __**Stop. **_

Kyoko finally spoke, her voice so utterly void of inflection or personality that it made Tsuna flinch. "How long has my brother known?"

"Two days. I told him and Hana and Chrome the same day you were shot. H-he originally wanted me to come tell you this yesterday, b-but…" His words stopped as he fought against the sudden urge to lie, and say he was busy or the hospital hadn't been taking visitors anymore.

"But what?" Kyoko asked, and Tsuna knew he couldn't lie.

"I was too afraid. Too scared." Shame colored his voice.

"So what did you do for the rest of the evening?" Now there was an underlying hint of cold politeness, a distance that Tsuna had been expecting.

"I tried to sleep; when that failed I bit my knuckles or chewed my fingers and tried to think about what to tell you."

"And this is your final result?"

Something in her voice set him off. Part of him heard the tone and thought _is she expecting some kind of grand orchestra? _The rest of him was simply in too much pain to care. "Oh I'm _sorry, _is this not what you wanted? Is my coming here and practically professing my dying of sheer panic _not enough _for you? Should I have just torn out my heart and thrown it at you? Maybe served it up amid a bed of thorny roses?" He didn't care if he sounded hysterical or stupid. He was _tired _of everyone around him, tired of him having to take the fallout for his father's fuck ups, and tired of having to deal with life in general. "God Kyoko, I know this isn't exactly the best _fucking _news out there, but you know what? You aren't _his _son. You _don't _have to deal with the mafia on your doorstep, and you sure as _hell _don't have to deal with the rumors and the fact that you will never have any friends because of how you live. And you want to know the best part? I can't even run away. I tried to; back when I was nine, and Iemitsu found me and hauled my ass back himself. And then he _fucking __**beat me **_until I could barely walk. _That _is what dealing with the mafia is like.

"I'm sorry you got shot, okay? I'm sorry I didn't think about someone coming after me despite the fact that I want nothing to do with them! But I'm tired of dealing with my father's messes. I'm tired of waking up every day and knowing that nothing is going to change. It doesn't matter if he's halfway across the world or right on our doorstep; the fact remains that my life will always be tied to his. People in this town here the name 'Iemitsu' and they start talking about the rumors. And when the kids hear that I'm his son, they take one look at me and run the other direction. Even the teachers hate me. And _there's nothing I can do about it. _That's the difference between us. You have a life out of high school. No one will look me because I'm _Iemitsu's son._"

He got up from the bed and walked towards the door, opening it and stepping out. Kyoko didn't say a word. Feeling the burn in his throat, he turned back one final time. "Go ahead and tell Hana and Chrome whatever you want. I'm transferring out of Namimori tonight, so you can go ahead and tell the kids that the _delinquent _is finally gone." He shut the door then, not quite slamming it, and rushed from the building before the nurses could yell at him.

_**That was a very bad choice. **_

"Ask me if I give a fuck," Tsuna choked out as he ran all the way home, tears running down his face. He didn't say a word to his mother when he walked in, not even when she asked what was wrong. He just locked himself in his room and let go of everything he'd been feeling for the last few days. When his pillow was too wet with snot and tears to handle anymore, he threw it aside in favor of the bedsheets.

He didn't go to school the next day. Or the one after that. Even when teachers started calling, or Ryohei came to his door and asked to see him, even when his father told him to get over it and move on, Tsuna didn't leave his room. Instead, he crawled into a corner of his closet, shut and locked the doors, and fell asleep. When Iemitsu finally got tired and busted in the door six hours later, his window was open, and there was no sign of him anywhere. Sawada Tsunayoshi had run away from home. The police spent the next few hours searching every corner of the town, and even some of its residents came out to help. But there was no sign of the brunette.

Tsuna hadn't just run away from home. He had run away from Namimori. And now no one knew where he was.


	6. Interlude 1

Interludes are little behind-the-scenes extras that help push the story along. This chapter is set a few hours before Mark Three.

**Chapter Notes**

_*Japan is seven hours ahead of Italy._

_*Catania is a city in Sicily; Sicily is the home of the mafia. _

* * *

_Interlude One: Darkness and Gravity (Imperfect)_

**August 7th, 5:20 AM*/ Catania***

A jar of whole pickles sat on a redwood table in a well-furnished office. In the background, the scratching sound of a pen across paper could be heard, and the occasional creak from a worn leather chair as its owner shifted around to get in a more comfortable position. The jar of pickles was picked up, the lid unscrewed, and its contents – juice and all – devoured.

"Ugh, how can you _eat _those things? That's so disgusting."

"Hehe, you just say that because you hate sour things, Enrico."

"I say it because it's true! Those things are so nasty! Just watching you is making my stomach churn, and I'm all the way over here!"

From where he was sprawled on the couch, pickles in hand, Federico grinned up at his older brother. He was a tall man, built on limbs that had been gangly and awkward in his youth, and only now were growing into something graceful and appealing to look at. Darkened roots peeked out from behind auburn-dyed locks trimmed to hang loose and tuck behind the ears, going no further than the shoulders. Dark brown eyes laughed up at his scowling brother. "Aw, don't be like that, Enrico. You know I come here because I want to spend some time with my favorite big brother."

"You come here to torment me, you wicked thing." Enrico smirked, laying down his pen before leaning back in the chair, sighing and rubbing his temples. "Which is redundant considering the amount of paperwork I'm already doing." His brother was a much taller, thinner copy of him, clad in a pinstripe suit and tie with black, well-groomed spiky hair and a narrow, almost fox-like face on him. The women often whispered that the fox aspect of him must have come from his mother, who was supposedly a fox demon from overseas that had enchanted his father. Funny how those 'demonic' traits had only passed onto one of them instead of all three.

Federico snickered. "Dad got you on the ropes again?"

"Ah, I talked back when I shouldn't have, so I get to deal with all the paperwork for this month. Damn it to hell."

Tears of mirth coming to his eyes, Federico waggled a finger at his brother. "M-maybe next time you'll think before you scream, 'That man is an idiot' at our guests!"

Enrico's face was coloring rather quickly. "Well he _was, _I mean, insulting Xanxus and then just thinking he'll get away with it? What kind of fool does that? Especially knowing our baby bro's temper… god, it's like these idiots _refuse _to learn!" He gave his brother a droll look, watching him roll around on the couch, clutching his stomach. "Of course _you _find this amusing, you don't have to sit here and do paperwork all day."

Federico took some time to pull himself together, wiping the tears from his eyes and coughing quietly a few times. "N-no, I'm laughing because I'm remembering the look on Xanxus's face wh-when he heard what you did. Our poor baby brother looked so damned confused, like a little puppy that didn't understand why its owner was bathing it in love and affection instead of smacking it around."

Enrico's smile faded at that. "We need to get him past that, Federico. He's been living here for _years _now. He should know none of us are going to hurt him."

"He knows," Federico said, breathing in deep after a moment's pause. "But he's still cautious. You have to remember just how crazy his mother was, and how he grew up. You can't expect a wild horse to know which humans just want to help it and which ones want to hurt it. You have to show it."

"But we are!" Enrico protested, stopping when Federico held up a hand.

"It takes time, brother. Time and patience heal all wounds. He's been on the streets since he was born. He's only been in this house for a few years. Give him time to adjust, and eventually he'll settle down."

Enrico leaned back, huffing. "Remind me again why you aren't sitting here?"

The auburn-haired man grinned, reaching for his pickles again. "Because I'm smart enough to hide just how competent I am as leader. You flaunted your abilities since you were young, and Dad saw that. I've just sat quietly in the background with Massimo."

"Speaking of which, where is old Lard Butt?" Enrico grinned. Federico rolled his eyes as a knock came on the door. "Enter."

"Brought you some tea. And I'll have you know, that's _Mister _Lard Butt to you, Twiggy." The youngest of the siblings, young Massimo stood there, dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants. "Heya Federico."

"Massimo." He smiled at his brother, reaching out to brush the long black strands out of one eye. "It's almost time for another haircut, eh brother?"

Massimo swatted his hand away, pulling a face. "Geez _Mom, _and what if I happen to like my hair where it's at? I was thinking of growing it long."

Enrico pulled a face. "Massimo, you know what Dad thinks about that."

A snort was his answer. "Yeah, bad enough his son is already a pudgy lard ass unfit for even the simplest mafia jobs; gods forbid I decide to be a long-haired pacifist on top of that!"

"Massimo!" Enrico stood from his chair, looking horrified.

But Federico held up a hand, stopping his older brother. Leaning forward a bit, he folded his hands in front of his chin, hiding his mouth as he spoke. "Who took a shot at you?"

"What?" Both Enrico and Massimo asked. Suddenly the mood in the room was not nearly so amiable.

"Who. Took. A. Shot. At. You." Seeing Massimo's confusion, he elaborated. "Normally when you speak of how father sees you, you only use one insult. At most, you call yourself fat. You have never called yourself a _long haired pacifist, _nor have you referred to yourself as _unfit. _You know the most he and I," here he indicated Enrico, "will ever tease you about is being baby-faced. So." He crossed his legs, eyes narrowing as his friendly face slipped away to reveal something cold and ruthless, and very protective. "_Who hurt you_, Massimo?"

For a moment, there was no movement in the room. Massimo stared at the floor, and Enrico stared at him, and Federico just stared. Then the youngest shuffled a bit, as if ashamed, and muttered a name.

"I see." Federico's eyes shut, deep, silent breaths coming to him as his Will shifted around him like a cloak of power. Unlike Enrico's, it wasn't loud or particularly powerful, but Federico had completely mastered it and knew how to use it effectively. With the third deep breath his mind was already working out how to make it look like an accident while still serving as a warning. His father had forbidden them to ever pick fights, but Federico would be damned if he didn't answer an insult like that. Massimo was their baby brother and no matter what he looked like they loved him. Even if their strict man of a father didn't.

He took one final breath, opened his eyes and stood, suddenly all smiles again. "I think I'll go for a walk."

Massimo and Enrico watched him go, neither saying a word until his footsteps disappeared completely. "That was scary," Massimo muttered. "He didn't have to do that."

"You're right, but you know Federico. One of us gets hurt, and he goes looking for attacker." Enrico sat back in his chair, sighing heavily. "Dad's not going to be happy."

Massimo worried his lower lip. "Do… do we really have to tell him?"

Enrico gave him a sharp look. "Of course we do. He's our father."

"He's also _an asshole_! Besides, it's not like he'd really care about the insult in the first place – he'd just tell Federico that he was being too emotional and that I was being a fool again." He seemed to wilt a little, and Enrico sucked in a sharp breath, Will hammering at him to protect his emotionally crippled baby brother. "Which, if you think about it, isn't really new, he tells me that practically every week…"

"_Enough._" And now Enrico did get out from behind the desk and sweep him up into a hug, feeling not for the first time more than a little ire directed at their father for allowing the mafia to penetrate even the most sacred of places. "You are _not _a failure, and you are _not _an incompetent. You are my _brother, _and I would easily move heaven and earth if it meant keeping you happy." He wished he could say he was exaggerating, but if there was one thing the mafia had effectively drilled into both him and Federico, it was loyalty. His father kept telling him he had it backwards, that Family came before family, but neither he nor Federico would ever agree to such a thing. Forsaking family for a bunch of strangers was the same as cutting off one's own limbs – it did nothing but cause pain.

He and Massimo stayed like that until Federico came back, wiping his hands on a cloth and tucking it away. Only then did they part, managing to get a single step away before Federico swooped in and wrapped his arms around them, completed the trio, smiling at both of them.

Family before Family. Blood before clan. Always.

_Forever._

* * *

Massimo sighed as he left Enrico's office, tray in hand. His relief had lasted until he set foot outside, and then the anxiety was back, coupled with the knowledge that his father would probably be coming to see him soon. Nono was by no means a cruel man, but Massimo longed for the early days, back before the mafia had taken so much of his father's life. The love he had once displayed openly for all four of his sons was now reserved to just three: Xanxus, Enrico and Federico. Massimo wanted to say that the lack of his father's pride or love in him didn't affect him at nearly twenty years old, but he knew he'd be lying. He hated disappointing the only parent he had left, and it seemed like nowadays nothing he did was right or good enough in his father's eyes. He was constantly being scolded for _something. _Stop picking at your food Massimo. You're eating too much, Massimo. Didn't I tell you to pick up your toys Massimo? Fold up your clothes properly Massimo. Stop arguing with me, Massimo. Don't bug your brothers, Massimo.

He knew Federico was aware of his insecurities, much like he was aware of Xanxus'. But then again, Federico always had been the perceptive one of them all, always tuning into people's emotions so much easier than any of the previous Vongola, with the exception of perhaps Vongola Primo or Vongola Quinto, both of who were said to have pure empathy when it came to dealing with others. It was what allowed them to crawl into the heads of others, see from their point of view, and make decisions based on that. Enrico on the other hand dealt with people by watching for their tells, subtle body movements that gave away their emotions and thoughts. Massimo… didn't really have anything helpful like that. Truth be told growing up, he'd known that he wouldn't ever really get some powerful ability like Federico's insight or Enrico's leadership, that he'd just be average. What was ironic was he'd told his father as much, and his father had brushed it off with a laugh.

"_Of course you'll be great, Massimo! You're my son."_

The man that had said that had been the same man that had kissed and hugged his sons, told them bedtime stories and actually took time out of his schedule to make sure they were enjoying themselves and were safe. That man was now gone, dead to the world, and his place had been taken by the mafia-hardened Vongola Nono.

Massimo wished he hadn't died. He wanted his father back. He wanted to see the man smile at him, pat him on the head and tell him that he didn't have to be anything more than what he was comfortable with. His eyes began to burn, and he hastily ducked his head as he moved through the hallways, unwilling to let anyone see him cry. They'd think him weak. Not that they didn't already. But he didn't need to give them any more reason to whisper behind his back, given that they had plenty to start off with.

The tapping of a cane against the floor behind him suddenly caused him to draw to a stop, a familiar voice calling his name. Sucking in a deep breath, Massimo forced his eyes to clear and raised his head, turning to look at his father. "Yes sir?"

Vongola Nono stared at him with shrewd, accusing eyes. Massimo hated those eyes. Those were the eyes of a stranger – someone who considered him an enemy. "You were the one who pushed Antonio down the stairs, weren't you?"

Massimo's eyes widened a bit. Just what had Federico done this time? "What? No, no I di—"

The end of the cane slammed into the ground, making Massimo flinch. "Don't you lie to me, boy! You think I don't hear the whispers? You think I don't see everyone around here looks at you?"

_Then why don't you stop them? _Massimo thought, trying not to let the pain in his chest climb up to his throat and strangle him. _Why don't you tell them to shut up, silence them like you used to do? Why don't you love me anymore? What have I done so wrong?_

"You must think I'm some kind of old, senile fool if you honestly believe you can get away with something so disrespectful in _my _household. Honestly Massimo, sometimes I swear you weren't born with anything but air between your ears!"

Massimo felt a familiar numbness sweep over him, reaching up to drown him. He began to retreat back into his mind, just as he always did when Nono got started on his list of grievances with Massimo, when another familiar voice stopped him.

"That's enough, Father."

Both men looked up to see Federico standing nearby, hands behind his back, eyes cool and stature collected. Massimo felt a wave of horror wash over him as he recognized the look – it was the same one Federico gave someone he was sizing up right before a fight. _Oh god, he's not actually thinking of taking on Father, is he? Oh god…_

"Stay out of this, Federico. This is between me and your failure of a brother." Nono began to turn back to Massimo, and over the old man's shoulder he saw it; the switch being flipped. Federico's face grew cold, his tone commanding, eyes narrowed.

"I said_, __**that's enough, **_Father." There was no mistaking that voice; that was the voice of a leader to his subordinate. Massimo nearly choked as Nono's fury welled up, and he turned back to his middle son.

"How dare you raise your voice at me, boy? I am your father, I raised you—"

"That does not earn you respect or love, _Father. _You have long overstepped your boundaries with Massimo. I was a fool not to do something about it before, but I'm going to correct that problem now. And after I'm done here, I'm going to go down the main hall and silence those subordinates of yours."

Nono looked furious, Will blazing clear as he raised his staff. "You will not—"

"_I __**will, **_Father. You can't stop me."

"You are not the next heir of this Family; you have no power or say in this house."

"I beg to differ. My brothers and I stand as one on this matter. If you will not stop your treatment of Massimo, then we will abandon this house and all who stand within its confines. Including the ancestors." Federico said it all so calmly it was like he was talking about a summer picnic instead of the end of the Vongola.

Nono actually looked a little nervous. It was no secret that together Enrico and Federico were miles more powerful than their father. It was part of the reason he never sent them out together on missions anymore; as he aged he began to fear his sons overturning him. Massimo watched as he grew pale, and then seemed to draw on his Will, glaring at his middle child. "Then I will take Xanxus and—"

"Did you not hear me, Father? I said, _my brothers and I stand together. _That includes Xanxus. When we abandon this house, not a single heir will remain. You will have _nothing. _The Vongola will die out, and that will be that." This was not a threat Federico was issuing, but a solid promise. Massimo felt both touched and horrified that it had come to this. That the reason his father and brothers were finally breaking apart was because of _him. _

Reaching out, he begged, "Father please, just listen—"

He cried out as his hand was smacked away, a furious Nono pointing his cane at him threateningly. "This is your entirefault! If you weren't such a failure, my children wouldn't be trying to tear my Family apart! It's all because of _you!_ You should have just _**died!"**_

The blood was roaring in his ears, and the ground was suddenly coming up fast, Massimo shutting his eyes as he braced for impact. Something curled around him at the last moment, jerking him to a stop before he could break his nose. Somewhere over his head something roared in rage, and Massimo became aware of his father's cane clattering to the ground, the gemstone at the top shattering to reveal something small and purple. He didn't pay attention to whatever it was though, as the person holding onto him yanked him back as Sky and Wrath collided in a fearsome dance, Wrath devouring Sky after a mere moment. When the Flames cleared, Massimo was able to see Xanxus standing over his felled father, a snarl on his face, hurt in his eyes. "What the fuck is **wrong** with you, old man?! How dare you say that to your son? How dare you hurt him? What the **fuck** kind of father are you?!"

Massimo jerked as something soft touched his eyes; he looked up to find Enrico holding a handkerchief to his eyes, face stern. He became aware of the wetness on his face, and realized he'd been crying. He hastily swiped at the tears, sniffing just in time to see Federico come up behind Xanxus and clasp him on the shoulder, holding him back from killing their father. Xanxus looked back at him, and paused as something in Federico's expression changed. Then after a moment, he nodded grimly and knelt, grasping the front of Nono's jacket and pulling him up. "What happened to the man that brought me into this house, huh? What happened the Boss that played with his sons; that loved them unconditionally? What happened to the human being that prioritized peace over his Family's selfish desires? Huh? What happened to you, Timoteo, to make you so bitter towards Massimo?! He's done nothing but be a good son, try to do his best, and you're fuckin' around like you've got your head so far up your ass you can't see an inch in front of you!" He shook the man again, eyes bright with frustration and anger.

It was only when a sob cut the air that Massimo realized something was wrong. Something was _really _wrong. Because Nono was crying, and suddenly he looked like a completely different man. He looked like their _father. _Massimo watched, entranced and stunned, as the man pointed to the staff with a shaking finger. Federico walked over, picking the staff up, and pulling the strange purple thing out of the top. It looked like a seed, but just from the look on Federico's face, Massimo could tell it was no ordinary seed. When his older brother swore emphatically and crushed the thing in his palm, he knew it to be true. "What's going on?"

Federico looked at them, and there was no hint of love there. "We've fallen under attack. Someone planted a drug in father's staff to change his emotions."

Massimo felt as if the ground beneath him were made of glass, and he was one cut away from draining himself dry. "What drug could do that? And how could we not have noticed something like that?"

"They were sneaky. I'd wager they've got spies that have been here for years, judging by how long father's been under its spell." Federico looked to the man that was curled up on the ground, sobbing silently. There was pity in his eyes. "Xanxus, take father to the infirmary. Inform them of what's going on, and have them pump his blood for any more of the stuff. And as to what it is, I don't know its official name, but Talbot showed me it back when I was younger. We had one of our best spies come back completely out of it, and Talbot pulled the same thing out of his stomach that father had in his staff. It's basically a plant that if grown under certain conditions, can release unscented spores that affect the emotions, usually bringing out the more volatile side of a person. A minor upset can turn into a great anger. A small disappointment—"

"Can turn into unmitigated hatred." Massimo felt his eyes shut, body shaking with some sort of strained laughter. "All this time, a drug was stopping him from telling me the truth. It stopped him from protecting me, from _loving _me."

Federico's gaze had softened considerably. "It's hardly an ordinary drug. Few people can resist its pull, unless they grew up around the stuff. Even then, it's hard to come by. They're mostly grown in desert areas, or really humid, fertile swamps."

"Given how few swamps we have around here or near our enemies' bases, I think it's safe to assume the plant came from the desert," Enrico said, arms curling around Massimo in a tight hug. Massimo just buried his face in his older brother's chest and cried, too shaken by recent events to care if anyone saw or what they thought of him. "And given how many enemies we have with access to such plants that live in the desert—"

"It's safe to assume the Soolu are behind this, yes."

"Does Iemitsu know?" Enrico asked, picking up Massimo and following Federico down the halls.

"No, but he will. I'm calling him now and telling him to get his ass back here." Glancing up from where he was dialing, the phone to his ear, Federico jerked his head towards the master bedroom they shared. "Put Massimo to bed; give him a sedative. He doesn't need to be awake for this."

Massimo was grateful to his brother for the consideration. He took the small blue pills without complaint, swallowing them quickly and laying his head on the pillow, feeling very old all of a sudden. The drug was just beginning to kick in when he heard Federico's voice talking to Enrico outside his door.

"—can't reach him. The lines are blocked."

"You think the Soolu are up to something over there too?"

"I don't know, but with Dad out of the picture, we can't take any chances. Can you hold down the fort here?"

"Of course. You going over there yourself?"

"I'm taking a couple of Dad's Guardians with me, don't worry."

"You're my brother nimrod; of course I plan to worry. You better come back in one piece, or Massimo will never forgive you."

"And what about you?"

"Eh, I'll get over it."

He heard Federico laugh softly. "Brother."

"Brother," Enrico replied.

And that was all Massimo heard as the pills kicked in, and darkness swept his mind under the warm rug of sleep.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Notes**

*Province of Almeria is found in Spain, and is one of the few places in Europe with a true desert.

**WARNING: **This chapter is pretty dark, especially towards the end. It deal with mentions/hints of pedophilia and the rape of 'outsider' women in mafia houses. Nothing is graphic, but it is hinted at, and I would prefer all my readers be aware before they read. If this turns your stomach, please do NOT read **Province of Almeria. **If you happen to skip it, PM me or leave a review letting me know you skipped it and I'll give you a summary of what happened so you won't be confused if I mention something about it in the next chapter. There will be some more chapters like this in the future, and I will **always **warn you guys before hand, so don't worry about unexpected surprises.

* * *

_Mark Five: Infinity in Idle (Ugly Truth)_

**August 13th, 3:00 AM/ Sawada House**

The phone was ringing again. Iemitsu listened to it for a long moment, standing in the doorway to Tsunayoshi's room, examining the mess and trying to piece everything together. He felt oddly disquieted, as if the scene was _wrong, _despite the fact that the police (and god, how much it had hurt him to have to call those idiots) had gone over it with a fine-toothed comb right after Iemitsu had. He had gone over it again after they'd left, more to make sure they hadn't taken anything, but for some reason he kept being drawn back here despite that. It was like something in his mind was nudging him, urging him to _keep looking _when he would have been looking away. And it was driving him insane. Finally he pried himself away long enough to go answer the phone, not wanting it to wake Nana up. He should have been back in Catania already with Nono, but found himself unable to leave, knowing how fragile everything was right now. Nana needed him here, and despite the fact that his loyalty had and always been for the Family, he couldn't find it in him to disagree.

"Hello, this is the Sawada residence."

"_Iemitsu, finally."_

He jerked upright as he heard Federico's voice on the phone. Frowning, he quickly checked over his shoulder before switching to Italian. _"Federico? What's going on, why isn't Nono—"_

"_Dad's been involved in something bad. The Soolu are involved. Do you remember that spy we had back when I was seven with that seed in his stomach? Dad had one of those under his staff head."_

Iemitsu felt the world drop away in a heartbeat. All thoughts of Tsuna and Nana were gone, replaced by a horrifying realization that his Boss had been attacked and he _hadn't _been there. _"When did—"_

"_Three days ago. Just after he called you, in fact." _Iemitsu heard the boy sigh heavily. _"Anyway, I've been trying to call you for the past three days, but the lines over at your home have been out. Was there a storm or something?"_

Iemitsu frowned. They'd had a bit of rain, but nothing strong enough to harm the power lines. _"No, just a little bit of rain, nothing so strong…"_

"_I feel the need to ask, has anything happened over there recently?"_

Iemitsu found his heart stopping and restarting. He didn't need to drag the Vongola into this, it was his business that his son had run away. But his mind conjured up the images he had seen just after the police had brought the news that their son was gone to the house, the sight of Nana sitting in the kitchen, hands in her lap, staring down into a forgotten mug of tea. The dark circles under her eyes and tear tracks had been a testament to her worry. He felt his throat constrict, and rubbed at his own face with a hand.

"_Tsuna's gone missing."_

He could almost hear Federico frown. _"Little Tsunayoshi? The brunette with the big smile? That Tsuna?"_

Tsuna probably wouldn't remember it, but when Nono had visited all those years ago, he had brought Federico along to keep an eye on things while he and Iemitsu talked about the Family. Federico had been fourteen - seven years older than Tsuna at the time – and curious what Iemitsu's son had been like. Enrico had been too busy studying under Reborn to come along, but Iemitsu had no doubt Federico had told his older sibling everything there was to tell about the happy Sawada boy. _"Yeah. He's been gone since the tenth. We think he ran away."_

There was a stony silence on the other end of the line. _"Dad gets attacked, and sent to the infirmary. The lines to your house prevent us from contacting you. Your son goes missing." _There was a pause. _"Iemitsu, I don't think they're aiming for us."_

"_What?"_

"_Listen to me. The attack on us was planted a while ago. We're searching for spies now, but the attack on you was **recent**. And Tsuna has been gone for three days. They could have been launching an attack on us, but they weren't."_

"_I don't—"_

"_**Think, **__Iemitsu. Three days. You made that promise to someone else, right?"_

In an instant his mind went back to that conversation with Nono, the muttered words of _**I'll be back in three days. **_His heart stuttered. _"Someone was listening in."_

"_And that person was the same person who planted the seed in Dad's staff. We have a mole in our home, Iemitsu, one with contact to the Soolu. And judging by how things have been going so far, it's safe to say that the Vongola as a whole are not the target. __**You **__are. They took Tsuna because they knew you'd be gone, and unable to stop them. At least that's what they thought. But they miscounted."_

"_What?"_

"_There's a seven-hour difference between Japan and Italy, Iemitsu. When you made that call, it was only beginning to get dark over here. It was midnight over there, if my math is correct. They thought the call was on our time, rather than yours. They jumped the gun – and now they've left us a trail to follow." _There was a familiar heat to Federico's words when he next spoke, and try as he might Iemitsu could not suppress the shiver that ran through him. _"I think it's time we follow the rats back to their nest, and retrieve our lost baby bird."_

The phone went dead before Iemitsu could reply. He stared at it for a moment before a sharp rap on the door caught his attention. When he opened it, he felt the pressure that had been in his chest the past few hours collapse as if it had never been there at all. "Sir."

Federico stood dressed in a familiar uniform, one his father had worn and his grandfather before him. Black pants and jacket with a white button shirt beneath it, hands tucked into his pockets, and a tie in the middle of it all. The smile Federico gave him was distinctly predatory, easily matching the vibe given off by the three Guardians flanking him. Iemitsu recognized Schnitten Brabanters, Ganauche III and Bouche Croquant all standing around him, each looking as determined as the last. He sighed, smiling down at Federico. "You really like the call in the cavalry, don't you?"

"When someone hurts my family, I take it very personally. That includes long-distance cousins such as yourselves. So yes, I enjoy calling in the cavalry. May I take a look in Tsuna's room?"

Iemitsu stepped back, allowing the four into his home. He quietly closed the door, hoping that Nana hadn't woken up from all the noise he'd been making.

"Iemitsu, who are these people?"

Nana stood on the last step of the stairway, looking over at the four men that now stood in her home. Iemitsu felt as if he'd been caught off guard by one of his own punches, and hastily tried to cover his mistake. "Th-these are, uh—"

"Ah, please forgive me Madame Sawada, for not introducing ourselves sooner. I am Federico d'Lorian, a private investigator hired by your husband's boss to help find your missing son. He heard about poor Tsunayoshi down the grapevine, and would like to see him returned home as soon as possible. This beside me is Mr. Albert Gregory, Mr. Talbot Yoshimaru and Mr. Hans Bec. They're all my assistants." Federico smiled, looking completely honest despite the fact that he was weaving a lie right in front of her face. Iemitsu didn't know whether to be insulted or impressed.

Nana looked a little shocked. "Oh, Mr. Nono did this? T-that's very kind of him. But I'm afraid we don't have that much money—"

"Oh you don't have to worry about that, Madame; my father Mr. Nono is handling the bill for this. He said to tell you that you can't truly put a price on a child's safe return home, so anything we do will be free of charge."

A little color returned to Nana's cheeks. "Mr. Nono is your father? Well, that's very kind of him. The least I can do is offer you some refreshments then. Do you prefer tea? Would you like something to nibble on?"

Federico spared a look at his "assistants" and smiled when he saw all of them try to act like they didn't care. Nana's cooking was legendary in the Vongola residence. "I think a spot of tea would do everyone some good."

"Would you like some gingersnaps with those? I made some up the other day, but I'm afraid I made too many, and they need to be eaten before they go bad." Nana's natural take-care-of-others personality was coming back, and Federico worked with it.

"That sounds lovely. We'll be investigating your son's room, just call us down when the tea is done and we'll have a sit down." Nana disappeared into the kitchen shortly after that, and when Iemitsu paused by the doorway he could hear her humming cheerfully. He looked up at Federico.

"You really know how to help people, don't you?"

The young man chuckled a bit. "Helping people is easy, Iemitsu. It's reading people that's hard. Fortunately, your wife is a very simple woman, or I would have had a bit of trouble there." They climbed the steps and carefully maneuvered Tsuna's room, stepping around articles of clothing or games. It wasn't very messy, but it was still a boy's room. Federico kept his eyes to the floor, kneeling down and running his fingers along the carpet while the Guardians searched the walls and ceiling, clearly looking for something.

After only a few moments, they found what they were looking for. "Boss."

Ganauche held out a small object, barely bigger than his pinkie nail. Everyone gathered around it, Iemitsu hissing in anger when he realized it was a camera. Federico tutted under his breath.

"My my, the Soolu really have no preference for personal space. Bouche, have you cast the barrier?"

"I have, sir." Bouche said, his deep voice as calm as ever. Iemitsu had to hand it to them; they were all rather calm despite what they were discovering. The Guardians he could understand, but Federico was still rather young and new to all this. Then again though, all three brothers had been trained and raised by Reborn, who was known for his calming effect on those unlucky souls he picked as his students. "We can poke and prod as much as we want, and they will never see a difference."

"Excellent. Ganauche, how easily can you dismantle it?"

The young Lightning Guardian chuckled. "Consider it done." And with surprisingly light touches, he took the camera in hand and pulled it apart, laying the result in the palm of his hand. "There."

"Good. Now, let's see the make and model of this thing."

"Wouldn't that logically be on the outside?" Iemitsu asked. "And why do you need to see the model anyway?"

"Because certain mafia houses use _very _exclusive types of recording cameras, and if this is the model I think it is, we can track it back to the main house that it's being controlled by." Federico lifted a particular piece up, squinting. "EX-134. Anyone recognize that number?"

"Give me a minute; I'll get Lal on here." Ganauche, ever the technophile, pulled a phone from his pocket and began to text rapidly, humming as he did so. After only a few seconds, the reply came. "She says it's definitely Soolu material – they're the only ones with a trading agreement with the Family that makes the EX brand. Unfortunately, she can't get a lock on where the signal is coming from."

"No dice then." Iemitsu felt his fist curl, and resisted the urge to smash the wall in. Nana wouldn't appreciate that. "So all of this was for nothing."

"I wouldn't say that. We know for certain now that the Soolu were behind this, and we know where to start looking at. We'll find him, Iemitsu. As sure as my name is Vongola, we'll find him." Federico clapped the older man on the shoulder, smile earnest. The Guardians around him nodded, their own resolve flaring.

One way or another, Tsunayoshi Sawada would be coming home.

* * *

**August 12th, 7:00 PM/Province of Almería***

"It seems we've been discovered."

Deep in an underground bunker, four men clad in white suits stood before an array of monitors, watching as the camera was plucked from the corner of the room. Something flickered over the screen, and a second later it looked like it was back in the corner, surveying an empty room. But the white suits knew different.

"Damn Italian dogs. I should have known Iemitsu would have dragged them into this," one man sneered, a thick mustache and beard covering his dark face. He had a cigar between his lips, and was in the process of chomping down on it quite vigorously.

"Ah, don't be so uptight, Regi. It's not like they know we're here." The man standing right next to him, a blond fellow with glasses and a piercing on his lower lip said calmly. "Besides, they can't touch us with Vongola Nono as he currently is."

Regi laughed. "Yeah, I still can't believe that fucking old man was stupid enough to not check his cane. You don't set something like that aside and then just pick it back up."

"He's been around for too long to care anymore, I would think," the third man in the group agreed as he flipped the long braid his brown hair was currently in over his shoulder. He was a rather muscular man, dressed in more frills and bells than the others. "He's what, seventy now?"

"Around that." The final one muttered, round goggles obscuring his eyes. His uniform was much more modified than the others, with a large collar to cover his mouth and nose, and his hair cropped into short spikes. "The last batch of paperwork our spy gave us said he was approaching his seventy-second birthday here soon."

"Your spies are excellent, Dama. Remind me to reward you with a nice fat promotion after all this is over."

"If that is your wish, Lord Sherry, then I will agree to such a proposition and thank you for your kindness." He bowed to the braided man.

Sherry waved a hand, smiling. "Nonsense, you deserve it for your work. I was thinking of giving your team a vacation in one of our summer homes, but I know you aren't the sort of man to do that, so I'll just give you a promotion instead and your team can have the vacation."

"Agh, enough you two! Would you two get a fuckin' room already? I swear my stomach's in knots over here with how you two act!" Regi spat out the cigar and crushed it beneath his heel. Sherry's nose wrinkled in distaste.

"You've an awful big mouth on you, but hardly no brains. Dama is my right hand, not my lover."

"Like it's that much of a difference. The way I hear it in Italy, the Boss takes his "right hand" over his desk and –"

"That's because the Italians are disgusting pigs who know nothing of proper methods!" Sherry spat, green eyes gleaming with vindictive rage. "They'd shit on their own desks if they thought they could get away with it!"

"Lord Sherry, please be careful; your blood pressure is rather delicate…" Dama cautioned, leaning forward a little bit as if preparing to grab hold of the man. Sherry growled a bit more than forced himself to calm down, mindful of his servant's words.

"Yes, thank you Dama. It wouldn't do to get aggitated this early in the game, would it?" He messed with his braid, combing out little bits of sand and mud he found. It had been hard work having to find that plant, but it was all worth it in the end. Vongola Nono was flat on his back in some hospital, the rest of the fools in that house were all running around like beheaded cockroaches, and Iemitsu had lost his precious son. All was going according to plan. But there was still one problem. "On the off chance they _do _find a way to track us, where should we go? After all, we've precious cargo to consider." Sherry tried not to sound like he was infatuated, but by the looks Regi and Samson were giving him it wasn't working.

Then again, it wasn't like it was entirely his fault. If there was one thing Iemitsu had going for him, it was a beautiful boy that Sherry was willing to bet all his money was a virgin. He could still remember the terrified look in the boy's eyes, and the sharp sting of hatred when he had fought back against the cloth Sherry had dragged over his mouth and nose, the sharp kicks he'd delivered that had gradually gotten feebler and feebler as the drug took effect. _That, _in his modest opinion, had been the best part. The man had almost lost in when the boy had given up, beautiful brown eyes sliding shut in unconscious glory. Clearly the youth wasn't that old, perhaps fourteen, maybe even fifteen, skin still creamy and hair wonderfully soft. If it weren't for the fact that he was a prize for the Boss back home, Sherry would have taken his victory prize then and there, regardless of what might have happened. The addition of the potential for being caught by one of his parents, or better yet _Iemitsu… _Sherry shuddered. What would Iemitsu have done? How would he have reacted to watching a rival mafia man dirty his son? The thought made him smile.

_Ah well… c'est la vie. _

"You're thinking those creepy thoughts again, aren't you," Regi muttered, watching him out of the corner of his eye. Truth be told, Sherry was more than a 'little' creepy to him, but he was an effective fighter despite his appearances. That was why their Boss had yet to toss him out – because despite his near-fetishistic preference of female clothing and sexual deviancy, he could seriously fuck up the people he'd been sent out to hunt. As long as they weren't underage, in which case he usually ended up taking the phrase a bit more _literally _than anyone would enjoy. Regi shuddered. He kind of felt sorry for the kid in the back there – Tuna? Something like that. From what Dama's reports had said, there was a growing rift between father and son – apparently the kid didn't like what his dad was doing in the mafia.

Regi couldn't exactly blame him. He had his own kids back home to feed, and while he had never revealed himself like Iemitsu had, he could easily imagine the looks on their faces. But children were the reason parents didn't go around telling others about the mafia. This poor kid had been dragged out of his home, unaware that he was the sacrificial lamb sent to slaughter because his father was a mafia man on their hit list. If Regi had his way, he would have skipped the kid altogether – kids were innocent, after all. Now the wife he might have taken instead, simply because that was how the mafia was about women. Born-and-bred mafia wives were treated with respect, but outsiders like Nana Sawada were practically live bait for the sharks.

The worst part of it all, Regi reflected as he lit the cigar and took a drag, was that Iemitsu had _known _this _before _he'd taken Nana to be his wife. It was the Boss's duty to inform their men of such things, either when they first met or before the wedding, since the Boss almost always got an invite to those affairs. Iemitsu wasn't just a monster – he was a horrible husband and a worse father. And now his kid and wife would have to suffer for it. It was beyond cruel.

Sherry sneered at him. "Mind your own thoughts, Regi. From what your face is telling me, they're hardly any better than mine." He turned back to the monitors. "Has Boss called and said what he wants done with the boy?"

Dama shuffled through his papers until he found the one he was looking for. "Yes. He has asked that the boy be delivered to the main house."

"That's all?" Sherry asked, sounding a mite disappointed.

"That's all." Dama repeated.

Sherry tisked in irritation. Their Boss might have been a magnificent man, but he didn't know a prize when he saw one. "Fine. Plot a course for home as soon as possible. And make sure we keep the Vongola in a tailspin while we're at it."

"As you wish, my Lord." With that, Dama bowed and disappeared.

Regi watched him go, then turned to head down the hatch that led to the room. "I'll take first watch," he muttered. Right now when he had his own children on his mind, the last thing he wanted to do was let that bastard Sherry touch himself over the boy sleeping in the next room.

Besides, the drugs would be wearing off soon. Better the kid wake up to a semi-friendly face than to the face of a creeper like Sherry.


End file.
